


deer in deadlights

by kingsh7t



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Slow Burn, Time Loop, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24977020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsh7t/pseuds/kingsh7t
Summary: Richie wakes up and finds himself right back where he started; about to go on stage, getting a phone call from Mike Hanlon. The only problem is that he remembers everything; going to Derry, Stan and Eddie dying, killing IT... so why was it happening again? And, more importantly, could Richie stop it?
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Comments: 43
Kudos: 132





	1. groundhog’s day is only fun in theory

Richie woke with a start in his dressing room, nearly falling out of his chair as someone from the outside pounded on the door. He scrambled to shove his glasses on his face, looking around the room and getting his bearings.

‘ _When the hell did I get back here..?_ ’ He wondered, the last thing he remembered being falling asleep in a hotel in Maine. It took him a few tries to respond to the knocking since his throat was so dry. “Yes, Lori?” He assumed it was Loraine, his assistant, on the other side of the door.

“You’re on in five minutes, sir. Are you okay?”

He rubbed his temple. “On? I don’t have any shows lined up… I thought I cancelled everything to go to a funeral.”

“I… didn’t hear anything about this,” Lori replied nervously. “But uh, you definitely have a show scheduled. We’re at the venue now. Are you feeling well?”

“What? When did I get to a venue? I thought…” He got a better look around, trying his best to see through… well, it wasn’t a hangover, exactly. Just a total wreck of emotions. “Um. I’ll be out in a minute, Lori.”

“You’d better be. I don’t want to have to come in there.” Richie could practically see her scrunching her face at the smell of cigarettes and whiskey. The look reminded him of—

—Eddie. Right. ‘ _Shit, when is the funeral? It’d better not be fucking today_ ,’ he grumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. ‘ _Big Bill would kill me_.’ He unlocked his phone to check his text messages from Bill when the door to his dressing room was swung open, and a man in a navy suit came storming in, trailed by an apologetic Loraine.

“Tozier! You’re on in two minutes, what the hell are you doing?!”

Richie recognized it as the same venue owner that he had seen before getting the call from Mike… actually, their entire exchange was happening more or less the same. “Look man… I’m grieving here. There isn’t a way to… I dunno, postpone?”

“One minute until you’re on,” An assistant added unhelpfully.

“No. You can’t! Because there’s a packed fucking audience here to see you!”

Richie’s phone ringing interrupted the conversation. He hadn’t returned it to his pocket yet, so he glanced down at the screen while the venue owner chewed him out. When he looked at the caller ID, he felt a mixture of dread and confusion.

Derry, Maine. Could it be one of his friends? The Losers? Hadn’t he saved all their numbers? So why was the Caller ID blank?

He mumbled something along the lines of “I’ve got to take this, sorry…” Before making his way outside. He found himself standing on a familiar fire escape, a painful déjà-vu feeling striking his gut. He answered the phone and cleared his throat. “Dick Tozier.”

“Richie, it’s Mike.”

“Kinda figured.”

“You… you did?”

“Yeah. This is about the funeral or something, right? It’s not today, is it?”

Mike didn’t respond for a few seconds. “Uh… Richie, I’m talking about our pact. To return to Derry when we were older.”

Richie snickered. “Oh, yeah, I’m so glad that scar finally cleared up. To think, for years I didn’t even know how I…” when he mentioned the scar in question, he brought his hand up to his face. All at once, the sudden realization crashed around him that the scar was still there. “...got it...”

“What? You don’t have the scar anymore?” Mike sounded genuinely floored. “You… you remember?”

“No…” Richie turned his hand back and forth, as if he was playing some kind of sick peekaboo game with himself. “Nope, I see it right there, right as rain. Crystal clear. Right where it’s always been, Mike-a-million.” He swallowed hard, hand hands shaking, threatening to drop the phone off the fire escape. “I’ll… I’ll call you back, Mike. I’m supposed to be on stage right now.”

“Rich—”

He hung up the phone and promptly emptied his stomach over the railing, just like he had a few days ago (or that day, the first time?).

Loraine opened the door. “Let’s get a move on, Mr. Tozier.”

“It’s Richie,” he wanted to say, but he was too tired. Out of breath. “Thanks Lori.” He managed instead. He made his way to the stage door by her side, the venue owner corralling him from behind as if he was afraid Richie would run away again.

By the time he walked out on stage, Richie had forgotten his entire act. He knew his manager would be pissed if he tried improv, so instead, he cleared his throat and decided to cope with the thoughts swirling in his head the only way he knew how.

As the cheering died down and Richie got signaled that the microphone was on, the comedian grabbed the mic in his hands, dazed, and let his mouth do the work.

“So… you know, this is off-script, but I had the craziest fucking dream about two seconds ago.” He paused for the audience to laugh. “I—get this—so, I woke up in my hometown. Already a nightmare, right? Middle school. Yuck. Anyway, on top of that, I was chasing down—now, you guys are gonna love this—an _alien demon clown!_ A clown! I’m not—I’m not even afraid of clowns!” If his voice shook a bit, the audience didn’t notice. Their laughter covered his fear.

“I’m afraid of werewolves! And—” ‘ _I know your secret_.’ “—short-shorts! Not clowns! But anyway, my brain thought that hellscape wasn’t enough, because it also sprinkled in some psycho drug-trip in a Chinese restaurant, which, what the fuck is _that_ about?!”

The audience was laughing harder than they ever had at his ghostwriter’s typical forty-year-old masturbation jokes. He would say he loved it if he wasn’t so close to hurling again.

At least he finally remembered his act. “That’s all I can remember, but I thought I’d share with you what my dreams look like when I’m sober. If you got me a few tabs in—holy shit, we’d _both_ be in for a show!” And from that, he segued into his scripted act.

It went as well as it normally did, which was outstanding, and as soon as he walked off stage his smile dropped. Loraine was quick to notice. “Mr. Tozier, are you okay? You seemed kinda sick before—”

“I’m okay Lori. I, uh, I have to call back that guy from earlier. I think I’m going away for a few days.” He started walking back to his dressing room, and she matched his pace.

“Wait, what? I mean, your schedule is clear, but are you sure that’s a good idea? You don’t look like you’re in a good head space, sir, I’m worried.”

“It’s Richie, for God’s sake! Why can’t you just call me Richie?! Now I know what Eds felt like! Jesus, I must’ve made him put up with that for ten years!” He would have started crying if he wasn’t so tired. At the name drop, Richie was hit with yet another realization; if _he_ hadn’t gone to Derry yet… neither had Eddie. “Oh my fucking god, Eds!” He spun around and grabbed Loraine by her shoulders. “He’s still alive, Lori!”

She looked frazzled as he shook her, trying her best to keep up. “Is this about that funeral you mentioned..?”

“Yeah! You’ve got it! Can you pack up my shit real quick while I go call that guy back?!” He asked, still holding her in a death grip like he was afraid she would disappear from his grip.

“Y-yes sir! Uh, Richie!”

“That’s more like it, Lori!” He patted her shoulder and practically flew for the fire escape, not even stopping to let the venue owner thank him for his act. He burst through the door and dialed Mike again, and got an answer within seconds.

“Richie? Have you had time to process everything—”

“I’m coming to Derry,” he announced. “For the first time in twenty-seven years.”

As the final confirmation to his theory, Mike made a noise of approval into the phone, and Richie heard a pen scratch against paper on the other end of the line. “Glad to hear it, Richie. I’ll see you there.”

Richie hung up, every single atom in his body seemingly dragging him back to Derry again. He had sworn that there was no chance in hell he’d go back there again after leaving from Eddie’s funeral, but if there was a chance he could prevent that from even happening, he would go back to Derry a million times over.

“I’ve packed everything, Richie. Should I book you a plane ticket?”

“No thanks,” he smiled at her politely, taking the suitcase out of his assistant’s hands. “I’m just going to Maine. I’ll drive.”

“Good luck with your situation,” she returned the smile sweetly. “I hope Eds is okay.”

‘ _You and me both, Loraine_.’

“I’ll keep you posted.”

***

Upon arriving at the Chinese restaurant, Richie recognized Ben and Beverly standing out front, where before it had taken him awkwardly bumping into them and seeing them at the same table for it to click. Knowing what he shouldn’t have been able to know and praying he was right, Richie walked up to the couple and spoke loud enough to be heard inside the restaurant. “Well, you two look amazing. What the fuck happened to me?”

Beverly’s head spun around and she cracked a smile. “Oh my god, Richie?”

His heart almost melted. Seeing her so happy, so alive… he ached to tell her and Haystack to hit the road before it was too late.

“Here and in the flesh, gorgeous. And… other gorgeous. Holy _shit_ , I can’t believe you’re Ben. You clean up!” He whistled, silently cursing when he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know he was gay yet.

Ben looked bewildered. “Yeah, how’d you know it was us?”

“Gut feeling,” he lied, waving them inside. “I’m just so damn insightful, you have no idea. Let’s go say hi to the others, shall we?”

They walked inside, and Richie guided them to the table without asking where they were seated, which neither Bev nor Ben seemed to notice. Bill and Mike looked up from their conversation, both delighted at the sight of the others.

“You guys are here!” Mike sighed in relief. “Now we’re only waiting on Eddie and Stan.”

Richie’s heart dropped. On his high of saving Eddie, he had forgotten the death of someone equally as important to him, and it immediately started eating him up. “Mike, can you give me Stan’s number? I—uh, I want to hear from him. Now.”

Mike gave him a weird look. “...Sure, Richie. Nice to see you too, by the way. Jeez, you haven’t changed.” Mike told Richie the number of the Uris household, and Richie made a mad dash for the door. The phone was ringing before he was even outside, and every second he had to sit on the curb and listen to the phone ring was torture.

“You’ve reached Patricia Uris.”

Richie could have cried in relief. She sounded fine, the way people don’t sound if they just found out their husband killed himself.

“Patty! Dick Tozier here, friend of Stan’s. Sorry if I’m being rude maybe, but could I talk to your husband? It’s urgent.”

“Tozier? Like the comedian?”

“No relation!” His frustration was growing, but he tried to remain civil. None of this should be taken out on Patty, especially if Richie was too late. “Can you put him on the phone pretty please?”

“Uh, he actually just ran a bath…”

“Fine! You got me, it’s Richie! Tozier, like the comedian! Please put Stan on the phone, really, it’s important!”

“Oh, wait, hold on. This is...” She sighed. “This is a lot, are you sure? I didn’t know you and Stanley were—”

“Friends? Oh yeah, Stannie and I go way back. Both raised in Maine, same shithole town. He has a birthmark on his asscheek, the whole shebang. I _promise_ we’re friends. Look, I really need to talk to him, Mrs. Uris. Can you please put him on?” Richie pleaded.

She paused momentarily then sighed into the phone. “Sure. Yeah, of course. One moment.” He heard her pacing up the stairs, and for a second, he was hopeful.

He hung up as soon as he heard her scream. He had been too late to save Stanley Uris yet again.

Defeated, Richie walked back into the restaurant, seeing everyone getting along nicely. He scanned the table for a bowl of fortune cookies, which sat in the middle of the table, untouched. ‘ _Am I supposed to wait until after this to tell them? No, that wouldn’t make sense, right? Should I be honest and risk breaking the loop?_ ’

He took his seat near Bill, feeling like he might cry, throw up, or both. The comments about shitty fortune cookie writers went over his head entirely before his friends were standing up and backing away from the table, and Richie felt inclined to jump up as well.

But the illusions in front of him didn’t scare him nearly as much as knowing that he had the chance to save Stanley again, and he didn’t do anything until it was too late.

***

“In the bathtub,” Bev and Richie said in unison.

***

Richie collapsed into the bed in his hotel room, feeling like fucking death. Not only had everyone freaked out and left, but they all also seemed to be roomed in the same hotel.

He had gotten a text from Loraine asking how everything was going, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her the whole truth. He replied saying that ‘Eds’ was fine, and they bid each other goodnight.

One thing that scared the shit out of Richie, because it hadn’t happened last time, was a knock on the door to his hotel room.

“If it’s Pennywise, fuck off.”

“What? Why would I be Pennywise?”

Richie sighed in relief when Eddie’s voice came loudly from the other side of the door. He could deal with Eddie. “Come in, Eds.”

The door opened from outside without hesitation, and Richie almost melted seeing the familiar expression. “My name isn’t fucking Eds.” He made his way over to Richie, scowling, and sat down on his bed. “Shut up. Whatever joke you’re about to make, don’t. Bev saw how Stan was going to die because she saw it in the deadlights. But you were never in the deadlights. So… how did you know? Is it when you left to call him?”

Richie’s jaw dropped. ‘ _Eddie noticed?_ ’ He considered spilling everything to Eddie right then and there. Including that he had, in fact, been in the deadlights. But that it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as what happened after. “Yeah. I was too shocked to say anything, mostly.”

“I… shit. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a straight answer out of you. This really messed you up, didn’t it?” Eddie’s voice softened, but his hands didn’t stop moving, giving his words an edge he didn’t intend for them to have. But that was just Eddie. Richie could handle Eddie.

“Figure that one out yourself? Doctor K strikes again, right on the nose with his brilliant fucking analysis!” Richie’s words didn’t have any sort of sharpness to them like Eddie’s. He couldn’t muster the strength to take out any of his frustration on his friend, nor did he want to. “No shit I’m sad. My best friend died, and for thirty goddamn years, I forgot I had him in the first place!”

“Twenty-seven years,” Eddie corrected, earning a glare from Richie. “Sorry. I had to. But uh, I get it man.”

He knew that Eddie would never be able to understand as well as Richie himself did, but he had to remember that Stan was just as much Eddie’s friend as he was Richie’s—although maybe secretly preferring the latter a bit more, as much as he pretended not to. They and Bill were all really close all those years ago. Richie never expected to be so torn up about it. Maybe it was because the memories were so vivid, all coming back at once.

“Thanks Eddie.”

Eddie had graduated from hand gestures to twirling his wedding band on his finger. Richie barely noticed.

“Myra, right?”

Eddie gave him a funny look. “Yeah, I’m surprised you remembered.”

“How could I forget? You’ve got Myra, Stan had Patty, Bill’s with Audra. The rest of us are all single—can’t believe you scored before I did, though.” He managed to smile.

Eddie sighed, pulling the ring all the way off to examine it in his hand. “I wouldn’t call it a score.”

It took everything in Richie not to try to steal Myra’s man then and there—that could wait until after Richie knew he lived to see next week. His priority lied in keeping all his friends alive, for the time being. “Damn, she’s not hurting you, is she? I might just have to whoop her ass myself.”

The shorter boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I want, dipshit. You in the ring with my wife.” Instead of allowing Richie to continue making jokes at his expense, Eddie stood back up, sliding the hand that was holding his wedding band into his pocket where Richie couldn’t see that he hadn’t put it back on. “I’m going to bed.”

“Night, Eduardo,” Richie replied, turning around and sinking into the bed. When he didn’t hear Eddie leave, he turned around. The boy was standing facing away from Richie, hesitating at the door. “What? Decided you couldn’t resist my charm any more?”

As if he had been freed from a trance, Eddie glared at the comedian over his shoulder. “You’re disgusting.” He left the room, shutting the door softly behind himself to not wake up anyone who might be sleeping.

Richie couldn’t care less about his tired friends. “No goodnight kiss, Eds?” He yelled.

“It’s Eddie, goddammitt!”


	2. hallucinating my dead best friend (and losing my living one)

Richie stood in front of Niebolt with his friends, after having killed Bowers (again) and paid his respects to Stan at the only temple in Derry (also again, unfortunately) and he watched Mike warily. He hadn’t bothered getting a token so he wouldn’t have to run into that dickhead clown again, and instead decided he would just tell the others how to kill it by coaxing the answer out of Eddie before he was bleeding out.

“Say Eds, care to tell us any possibly insightful information about your encounter with our lovely sewer-dwelling friend before we risk our lives?” Richie asked as bluntly as possible, not even leaving the question open for the others to answer since he assumed they had just faced unfortunate trauma like Richie did.

Eddie frowned for a second, like he was trying to think of a comeback for Richie’s joke, and then he softened. “Oh, actually… I didn’t say anything since Mike has this all figured out, but I… I almost killed it... I think. I could actually _feel_ it dying. Like, it was attacking me, and then I just choked it, and—”

“Richie was kidding,” Mike deadpanned. “We know how to kill it. Let’s just do this thing.”

“You aren’t telling us everything,” Richie fired back, starting to get pissed. He had given Mike the perfect opportunity to come clean before someone got hurt, and he didn’t take it. “The last people who did this dumb fucking ritual all died. Did you tell Bill that, Mike? Did you tell him that the tokens are all a fucking lie?”

Mike paled, and everyone stared at Richie in awe. “How… how did you…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Richie snapped. “Like Eddie said. He knows how to kill it, let’s fucking do that, okay?”

“Richie, what on earth are you talking about?” Bev asked in concern, looking between Mike and Richie. “Mike? Did you lie to us?”

“I didn’t… I…” Mike reddened. “The last time it didn’t work because they didn’t believe in it, not really!”

“So you did lie! Fucking unbelievable! What if you got us killed, Mike?!” Eddie fumed. “What if we _died_ over your dumb fucking ritual bullshit?! We trusted you!”

“Guys,” Bill stepped forward, “Richie is right; it doesn’t matter. We can grill Mike later,” Bill glared at Mike just so the other man knew how much hot water he was in. “But right now we need to find out how to actually kill this thing. Or we’re all going to die anyway.”

Richie was glad Bill stepped in, because he felt like he was going to vomit again. He was practically shaking in his boots—sneakers, whatever—at the thought of having to face Pennywise again.

‘ _Is the clown the reason I’m in this time loop? Does it even know this is happening? What if it’s something totally different, and no matter what, I’m stuck in it forever? What if… what if I’m still in the deadlights?_ ’

Richie was snapped out of his thoughts by Ben putting a hand on his shoulder, earning a terrified yelp out of the comedian. “Are you okay Rich?”

Richie put his hand over Ben’s and nodded. “Now that you’re here, Haystack. Hold me in those arms, why don’t you?”

Ben rolled his eyes, but neglected to move his hand, almost as if he realized Richie wasn’t joking.

***

Before Eddie and Richie descended into the clown’s lair, Richie told Eddie exactly what he  
told him last time, that he was braver than he thought. Sure, he was quoting Winnie the Pooh, but it worked the first time and it worked again. This time, however, Richie had something else to say.

“If I get caught in the deadlights…” he swallowed, trying his hardest not to be obvious that he knew it was going to happen. “Just leave me. I’m serious Eddie, do _not_ run towards me. And don’t let anyone else do it, either. You understand?”

He looked confused, obviously. “But we know how to get you out of the deadlights. Someone would just have to kiss you, right? You don’t want us to?”

“Not unless IT’s distracted. I’m serious. Even if you think it’s dead. Do not turn your back to it. Not over me. Okay?”

Eddie nodded solemnly. “I… trust you, Rich. Doing that hasn’t ever exactly gotten me anywhere, so you’re damn lucky I do.”

The comedian produced a professional smile. “Lucky is right. C’mon, Eds, let’s go give ‘em hell.” They descended.

***

Richie tried to avoid charging Pennywise directly, knowing it would just get him caught, but he quickly realized that since he hadn’t moved, nobody else did. ‘ _I thought Bill was the leader. The fuck is this bullshit?_ ’ He mentally cursed himself for being so damn influential. Trusting that Eddie would really listen to him, Richie charged forward.

“Yippie ky-yay, motherfucker!”

With the world’s lamest battle cry (a move he planned on sticking with no matter how many times he would have to do it), Richie surged forward. Like he expected, there was a blinding light, and his body froze. He was suspended in midair, his entire body agonizingly forced into a deep state of unconsciousness.

He didn’t know what to expect. Last time he remembered being caught in the deadlights, he saw several scenes from when they were kids, twisted and distorted to make Richie feel small. To make him feel like the others never really had his back. He saw the time he fought with Bill, the time he met Connor Bowers, and just Stan.

This time was more or less the same. Richie didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

He was suddenly in high school again, and Bill was standing in front of him. The two of them were in the middle of the street, pissed off, surrounded by the others.

As soon as he was in the scene, Richie noticed something was off. Stan was no longer behind him like he remembered, and was instead at Richie’s side, trying to wedge himself between the fight. In confusion, Richie looked around the scene. He saw what he had last time he was trapped in the deadlights; the edges of his line of sight blurring, the distance a milky white haze rather than a small town with sprawling farms, the uninvolved losers watching him and Bill fighting in mute horror.

The first time, Stan was among them. His face was never stoic, just sad, but Richie had always known him to appear that way, so it didn’t register as a difference until Richie realized that Stan in this vision was, in fact, the only thing about this loop that changed without his interference.

Richie tapped Stan on the shoulder, and he whipped around. His curls bounced and hit Richie in the face as he turned, reminding the man that he was still in his short high-schooler body.

“Richie?” Fake Stan asked, seemingly awestruck at the boy’s action. Actually, Richie noticed, he looked equally as terrified as he did surprised.

Richie squinted, having a hard time seeing through his milky vision. “Woah. You didn’t say shit last time! The fuck’s going on?”

Stan’s chest heaved, and without warning he wrapped his arms around Richie. He started mumbling, low and repeatedly, and in his own state of confusion, it took Richie a moment to process what he was even saying.

“I’m sorry!” Over and over. Howling, sobbing, and going completely unnoticed by the other losers, or the Fake Bill, who was arguing at the spot that Richie would have been standing in had Stan not moved in front of him.

“Woah woah woah, back it up, Stan-the-man. What are you bitching about?” Richie squeaked a bit when he said Stan’s name. If anything, he felt like he should be the one apologizing.

‘ _Does IT know that it’s my fucking fault Stan is still dead? Is it trying to scare me with Stan again? No fucking way. I’m not gonna let it._ ’

But his resolve to push Stan away crumbled when the boy continued, stuttering in a way that Richie was sure he would tease Stan for had the circumstances been any different.

“I-It’s my fault you’re dead! I’m… I’m still here, I don’t know what’s happening! I don’t know why I’m a kid! I keep… I keep fucking seeing you and Bill fighting! I just want it to s-stop!”

‘ _Okay_ , that’s _a lot to process. Shit_.’ Richie cleared his throat, trying his best to sound put-together. “Care to explain, Stanny boy? I don’t follow.”

He took a deep, shaky breath as the scene started to shift from the fight. When Richie saw that Stan wasn’t leaving with it, he got nervous. He didn’t want Stan to see the scene that came next… on the other hand, Stan looked beyond relieved that everything had changed.

“I’m… I’m dead, right? I killed myself! I saw you here before, and when you left, it started over, and you were static like the rest of them! Then Eddie was here too, an-and then he… but you guys aren’t… he said he didn’t die! He said you killed IT!”

Richie was feeling a mix of so many emotions at once that he thought he might combust. Stan (Richie’s childhood best friend that killed himself) was ranting to him, apparently about having been stuck in purgatory or whatever through Richie’s ‘loop,’ confirming that Eddie had in fact died after Richie and the others left him, all while behind them, a young boy very closely resembling Stan aside from maybe the nose was trying to flirt with Richie through Stan, who still had not yet caught onto the existence of young Connor Bowers standing right behind him. Just to recap.

“I mean… yeah.”

The jew broke the embrace, taking a step backwards and nearly stumbling into Fake Connor, neither of which seemed to notice the presence of the other. Yet. “Yeah? That’s all you have to say, Richie?! I’m the reason you’re fucking—that Eddie is—that you’re dead!”

Richie cleared his throat. “No, I mean, I’m not dead yet. Still have yet to kick the bucket. I’m just in the deadlights, like, uh, last time. Kinda just…” he glanced at Connor, and ignored the feelings that made him want to vomit again. “Waiting it out.”

Stan put his hands up to his curly hair, which only seemed to make him more frustrated. “Then tell me why the fuck I saw Eddie! Was he in the deadlights, too?! He seemed pretty fucking dead to me! He died after you killed IT!”

“I… that was my fault,” The comedian’s voice was almost inaudible as he continued, “He died. I remember that. But, like, he hasn’t died again yet.” ‘ _Fuck, telling stories is my goddamn job! Why am I suddenly braindead?!_ ’ “I mean, I’m in a time loop that I’m pretty sure is really happening and not just some psycho hell dream, but you being in on it is kinda tripping me out. Do you remember, like… dying? Twice?”

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed like he was thinking. The same way Richie remembered. “Yes. I killed myself, I was here, you broke the weird not-moving thing, then you disappeared, and then Eddie… he… and then I woke up. In bed, just like normal. I got a call from Mike again, and I… I just…” Young Stan broke down crying again, and Richie stood there with his mouth agape, watching the scene start to shift again as Connor ran off into the milky void behind his look-alike.

“So that means you chose to kill yourself again.”

The scene this time was after Stan’s Bar Mitzvah, where Richie hugged a crying Stan on the ground in an alley after they ran away from the temple. Stan wipes his eyes and Richie was reminded of that day, how he wanted nothing more than to just know what to say, rather than continuing to joke about how at least now Stan would get to keep the rest of his dick as Stan explained through tears that that wasn’t how it worked.

“I did. It’s the only thing I’ve been sure of, this whole time…” Stan sighed. “You guys can’t win unless I die. That’s why I’m so scared that you’re here, Richie…”

On the contrary to Stan, who thought he might pass out (if that’s possible in the afterlife), Richie wanted to scream. “You mean you had the fucking _choice_ again, and you didn’t even try to change it?! Stan!” Richie tried to grab Stan by his shirt, but his hands passed right through the other boy’s form. “You fucking ass, you could’ve come back to me! You knew Eddie would die if you did that and you did it again, you asshole!”

He realized too late that his actions had caused Stan to start to fade into the milky white like the rest of the scene as the boy in front of him struggled to keep his composure while Richie chewed him out. “I’m sorry…” Was all he managed to say, before Richie snapped back to life on the floor of a cave deep below the Neibolt house, staring into Eddie’s triumphant face.

‘ _No, no, not again! Eddie, get out of the way!_ ’

In a panic, Richie only managed to make a weak whining noise as he watched Eddie’s face go vacant, followed by the warm splash of Eddie’s blood pooling onto Richie’s chest and face. When the man’s body was tossed away, he finally regained his voice, and Richie scrambled to his feet. He started to stride towards the clown again, despite the calls of protest coming from his friends.

“Give him back! I know you’ve fucking got Stanley!” Richie shouted, then cupping his bloody hands around his mouth. “YOU’RE JUST A FUCKING CLOWN! A GODDAMN KID, A USELESS, TINY BABY WITH A FUCKING BEATING HEART!” He turned around to his friends, who still gaped at him. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! MAKE THE FUCKER SMALL! WE DON’T HAVE ALL DAY!”

Bill ran up to Richie’s side, and hastily tried to match the other man’s insults. “Y-You’re small! You’re smaller than me, you’re smaller than G-Georgie! You’re a tiny, insignificant little fucker!”

Beverly joined in next, with the same amount of rage in her voice that Richie held. “YOU’RE SMALL! YOU’RE A SMALL, DUMB FUCKING CLOWN! WE’VE ALL FACED WORSE!”

Ben jogged to her side, but it had been clear that he was acting for himself, not for Beverly or anyone else. “You’re just a twig! I could snap you in half if I wanted to!”

Like Richie expected, the form of the clown started to shrink and distort depending on the insults his friends slung in it’s direction. Since they finally had the right idea, Richie ducked away, and Mike took his place at the head of the riot.

Richie followed the trail of blood leading to a more secluded part of the cave, where he found Eddie trying to prop himself up on the cave wall. Immediately, Richie’s hands flew to Eddie’s face. Tears started to well in his eyes. ‘ _I never thought I’d get to hold him again_ …’

“Eddie, hey, don’t try to move. Please, hold still. They’re doing it, they’re killing IT for real, it’s all because of you. They’re ending it all…” Richie moved so he was holding Eddie against his body. Once he had shrugged off his jacket and pressed it against Eddie’s abdomen, he transitioned to running his fingers slowly through Eddie’s hair.

“Don’t fucking baby me, Rich, I’m fine.”

Richie tucked his head between Eddie’s shoulder and neck, trying his best not to let his tears leak into his voice. “I’m not… you’re gonna be okay.”

“Bullshit. I’m super fucking dead dude, did you see my st—” Eddie cut himself off with a violent coughing fit. When he was done, there was a fresh coat of his blood slicking Richie’s hands. “...See? A person who isn’t dying wouldn’t do that.”

The boys stayed silent for a minute while they listened to their friends killing the beast that plagued them their entire lives, even when they forgot it existed. Richie was the one who broke it. “You’re not gonna die on me again, Eddie… I tried to be faster this time… i-it worked, it has to!”

“Wh—” He gagged. “The fuck d’you mean _again?_ Richie, what the hell is going on with you? I—”

Richie put a hand over Eddie’s mouth. “Take it easy, Doctor K, you’re fragile,” he joked in a truly terrible impression of a sexy female nurse. He felt Eddie try to lick his hand so he’d move it, but Richie didn’t care. He just wanted Eddie to live this time, god dammit, so why was he still dying? “I’m sorry. I know this makes me a hypocrite, but just be quiet for a sec, okay? I…” he inhaled, which was hardly helpful when his bitch-crying was practically drowning him anyway.

“I’m in love with you, Eddie. I always was. I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t save you… if everything starts again, I promise I won’t let you down.”

Richie moved his hand, but what he had said stunned Eddie into silence. Richie could still feel Eddie’s heartbeat against the hand that had migrated from Eddie’s face to his chest, but after several minutes without a response, it had started to slow, and Richie was crying again.

“Say something, Eds, anything.”

He heard the other losers calling their names, not sure where they had gone, but he had lovesick tunnel vision for the man dying in his arms. Eddie seemed torn over what to say, and all Richie could hope was that it wasn’t what Eddie had said last time, because holy shit, hearing his own joke on someone’s dying breath was enough to plague Richie already without all this time-loop-guilt bullshit.

But what Richie hadn’t realized was that, maybe, there was something worse than that. The most terrifying thing that Eddie could have possibly said wasn’t a joke that Richie would never laugh at, never being able to comfort Eddie as he passed, but something much, much worse; a world-shattering silence as his heartbeat faded to nothing under Richie’s touch and his skin ran cold.

Riche gripped the boy tightly to his chest, sobbing into Eddie’s shoulder as the world collapsed around them.


	3. eat worms, bill

Richie woke with a start in his dressing room, knocking over a glass of whiskey as he screamed, reaching out for Eddie.

“Are you okay, Mr. Tozier?!” He heard from the doorway, Loraine’s voice flooding Richie’s heart with a mixture of blinding rage and crushing relief. “Should I come in?”

“Please don’t,” he insisted, staring at his phone on the vanity like a clown might jump through the screen and bite his head off. “I’m waiting for a phone call.” He didn’t know if she heard him through the terror that shook his voice, but Richie heard the door open cautiously. “Fuck off, Lori. And for the love of Christ, don’t call me Mr. Tozier. I think I just accidentally killed myself.” He turned around, and Lori looked white as a sheet.

“Should I call an ambulance?! What the fuck, Rich, are you okay?!” She rushed to his side, and he immediately wanted to make a snarky comment about her calling him ‘Rich.’

He shrugged her off. “Just kidding! But seriously, fuck off, I’m waiting for a phone call.”

“You’re on in—”

“Yeah I know, I’m supposed to go tell lame fucking sex jokes to some jackasses for like an hour, they all paid to see me, yada yada, I _don’t_ give a fuck. I’m sorry for snapping at you, but I’d fucking quit before missing this phone call, alright? Don’t think I won’t. I’ll walk my ass home right fucking now.”

Perfectly on cue, his phone chimed on the last word of his rant, taking all of his attention off Lori. He didn’t even bother to rush her out of the room before he scrambled to pick up, as if he was afraid that his life would slip through his fingers if he didn’t answer on the first ring.

“Mike?!”

“Close,” An unfamiliar voice replied through the phone, with an impatient undertone that was fucking music to Richie’s ears. “Guess again?”

“Stanley! Holy shit, you—” He laughed. Richie let out a genuine belly laugh, scaring the shit out of Lorraine, who took that as her cue to leave the room. She gave Richie a final look like ‘ _I’m gonna hold off the venue owner for you. Please don’t get me fired_.’

“Yeah, I… you’re fucking stupid, you know that?” Stan sighed. “You have two minutes before Mike calls you and we have to pretend you don’t know what’s happening. Seriously, all you guys had to do was not die! I was so fucking confident, I even wrote you all a letter! God, why did I think you were all competent enough to pull it off—”

As much as it stung, Richie let Stan rant. He had died for them, after all. Richie didn’t want to hear about how he failed to save Eddie even though Stan made it so easy, even though he had an extra chance, and instead tried his damndest to restrain from making a joke about how Stanley is basically Jewish jesus (which he remembered joking about before, when they were kids, to which Stan replied ‘ _Jesus_ was _Jewish you dumbass_ ’).

“—Do you know what purgatory is like, Richie?! It’s fucking boring!” Richie heard Stan lower his voice as he tuned back into the conversation, and instead of the yelling tone Stan had been using on Richie, the man was speaking softly to someone on the other end. “Yes, dear, I’m fine. It’s Richie Tozier, we’re—yes, the comedian—we were friends in high school, he was just reminding me of some inside jokes we had. He used to call me ‘Jewish Jesus.’ ...I know! It’s like he’s never heard of the bible!” Richie heard him laughing, and then his own phone made another noise, and he realized that he had totally forgotten about the other phone call.

“Mike is calling, Stan.”

“Of course! See you at the reunion, Richard.”

“If you call me that again, I’ll kill you myself.” Was that insensitive? Probably. Richie didn’t have time to care as he prepared himself to answer Mike’s phone call as nonchalantly as possible. He hit the answer button, half-wishing he wouldn’t hear Mike’s voice on the other end.

“Richie, it’s Mike.”

Richie immediately lost his lunch, unfortunately drowning everything that was on the vanity beside him with his stomach acids. On the other end of the phone, Mike gagged as well. “Holy shit! I didn’t realize you hated me that much—did you just puke?”

“I had whiskey for lunch,” Richie groaned truthfully, regretting doing so since he started both loops with an insane hangover. “What’s up, Mike-a-million?”

***

Richie waited outside the restaurant, hugging himself against the cold, not having gone inside after saying hello to Ben and Beverly.

“Go ahead without me,” he insisted with a smile. “I wanna give Stan a scare when he shows up.” His idea was met with disbelief from Beverly that he would ever show up, which made Richie’s heart sink in his chest. “Stan is braver than you think, guys.” He protested weakly. Ben corralled Beverly inside without allowing an argument to spring.

Almost fifteen minutes into waiting, Richie watched a curly-haired man climb out of the driver-side door of a car that wasn’t a far throw from Richie’s own, except that it was a far less flashy color. Where Richie expected bouncing golden curls, however, he was stunned into silence by hair that was almost black and wavy, shrouding a face that was still distinctly Stan Uris even after all those years.

The comedian bounded to his feet, and he and Stan locked eyes. They stood totally still in what looked like a scene that could devolve into a Mexican standoff, before Richie broke the tension by surging forward. He tackled Stan into a hug against the side of his car, and the other man immediately latched on, both of them laughing like doofuses.

“God I missed you!” Richie shouted, not caring that it was incredibly unnecessary. “Don’t you ever fucking try to be noble again, you hear me?!”

Stan’s grip on Richie tightened like he was afraid he might fade away again. “Lesson learned. From now on, I’m a selfish asshole.”

“You g-greedy… greedy fucking…” Richie cut himself off with a shaky heave of his body, indicating to Stan that he was crying again. “...f-fucking Jew!”

Stan made his own choked gurgling noise that was intended to be laughter. “You haven’t changed. God, you’re still so fucking—” Stan shoved Richie off and socked him in the stomach. “—dumb!”

Richie howled with laughter, and Stan joined in. Anyone watching might think they were drunk off their asses having a parking lot brawl, but a loser would know that the boys had never had a more sober, sincere moment in their lives.

“Fuck... I’m sorry, Stan,” Richie cracked a smile. “I can’t believe I sealed your fate. I never thought you’d actually be Jewish Jesus.”

“Jesus was always—” Stan had yet another laughing fit, reaching out and latching onto Richie again for support. “Fuck you. Let’s go inside, already. I need all the others to be shocked that I’m here.”

They did, and they were. They all subtly tried to pretend that they knew he’d come around, but truthfully, not one of them had ever thought he would show up, and Stanley could feel it in the air as he sat down. Richie was the only one who knew how to break the tension, like always.

“I was scared you weren’t comin’, Stan the Man! You always were a fucking pussy.” He kept his gaze soft, indicating that he didn’t really mean it, but Stan knew that. When the words left Richie’s mouth, all the other losers glared at him like he had let some huge secret slip.

‘ _I know your secret_.’

Richie was eternally grateful that Stan had shrugged off most of his resemblance to Connor Bowers. That meant there was only one face he needed to avoid when glancing around the table as memories from the previous ‘loops’ flooded his consciousness.

“Are you kidding? We’re gonna fuck this clown’s shit!” Stan declared, followed by him laughing to himself, nobody else quite picking up on what the joke was. Richie joined him, still feeling the balloon of feelings in his chest threatening to burst at all times.

Bill smiled at the display. “You two were always like that. I never got how you guys could just… read each other’s minds sometimes.”

“They’re either total opposites,” Bev agreed, “or both laughing at something that makes no goddamn sense like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. A hivemind.”

Finally, Richie felt like their table was complete. They didn’t all have that air of discomfort from before, all refusing to acknowledge the empty chair, knowing deep down that Stan never intended to keep his promise. Even though this wasn’t how things were supposed to work out, Richie knew, it was the only turn of events that felt right.

He turned to Eddie, who was sitting beside him, and zoned out for a moment.

‘ _He could have responded. Joked, laughed, spat at me, anything. But he didn’t. That’s the fucking worst! Why can’t you just tell me what the fuck is going on in that empty skull of yours, Kaspbrak?!_ ’

“What is it dipshit? Do I have food in my teeth?” Eddie asked, running his tongue quickly over his own teeth self-consciously, breaking Richie’s daze.

Richie blinked. ‘ _No, I’m just in love with you even though I’ve had like thirty years to get over it, because I got all my memory back in like two seconds, I’ve seen you die twice, and apparently you haven’t aged a day since I last saw you even though you’re forty-ish years old and should’ve grown out of your looks in your twenties_.’

“Richie?”

“Sorry Eds, I was just thinking about the past.” When he saw Eddie ease up, he cracked a smile. “I forgot what a good lay your mom was. I’m sure she didn’t forget about me, did she?”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, and god, he really did still have the same face. “She’s dead, asshole. And she didn’t say shit about you. I’m pretty sure she fucking hated you actually.”

Oops. He had sort of forgotten that Mrs. K died. He always hated her, too, but he wasn’t about to break character when he had already kept the joke running for a good twenty-seven years. Across the table, Stan snickered at the exchange, but by the time Richie glanced in his direction, all of Stan’s attention had returned to Bill.

“That’s what you think, Eddie dearest. She always wanted me to be the one to tell you that I’m your real father.”

“We’re the same age, dipshit!”

On cue, all the others sent each other a look like ‘ _If only they’d forgotten they hated each other,_ ’ and then resumed their own conversations, leaving Richie and Eddie to bicker amongst themselves. Stan only watched them for an extra moment before he was drawn away again by Bill, who wanted to talk about Patty and Audra.

When Richie realized this, he lowered his voice, keeping Eddie attended to him. “What have you been up to all these years, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Typically, a sigh made its way out of Eddie’s mouth. “It’s just Eddie. I—”

“Okay, ‘Just Eddie,’ what have you been up to?”

Despite the glare he was giving Richie like he wanted to bite his head off, Eddie continued. “Well, I got my degree, got married, and buried my mother. I’m not the most interesting person here you could ask,” he scowled. “How about you? I didn’t realize until a few minutes ago, but you’re the comedian, aren’t you? I heard you ditched a show a few hours ago.”

Richie scoffed. “Yeah, why do you think that is? I threw up as soon as I heard from Mike, and then I packed my shit and hauled-ass here. I’m never gonna hear the end of it, but it won’t matter if we all fuckin’ die, right?” He took a sip of his drink, avoiding eye contact with Eddie as he tried not to think about when they had both died just a few hours ago.

“Wow, way to keep up the team morale.” Eddie rolled his eyes, reaching for one of the fortune cookies in the middle of the table. Richie watched him, his heart beating out of his chest, glancing back and forth between Eddie and Stan like the latter might disappear. Eddie cracked open the cookie and pulled out his fortune, reading it with an expressionless look. “Huh. It just says ‘forever.’ Is that supposed to be deep or something? Fortune cookies are so useless.”

The sinking heart feeling of dread in Richie’s chest was almost indescribable. He grabbed the fortune cookie bowl and dumped it out, which drew attention from everyone else at the table. His hands shook as he tried to crack one open, and Eddie seemed to catch on, grabbing a cookie close to him.

“Hey, what are you doing? You guys can’t take them all,” Bill teased, reaching over the table to grab one of the fortune cookies. He frowned when he did. “Hey, what the fuck? It says _Richie_.” He looked up. “What… what the fuck do the other ones say?”

The other losers grabbed cookies, and Richie dropped a fortune on the table that read ‘safe.’ When all the cookies had been opened, everyone put the pieces in front of Richie, who rearranged them until they said what he had been trying to figure out since he realized he was in a time loop.

‘ _You can’t keep him safe forever Richie_.’

Everyone stared at Richie. Stan had a knowing look on his face. He knew that this was a threat to him, and that IT was going to be out to get him, to erase what didn’t belong. “Well shit.” Stanley ran a hand through his hair and sighed in a way of accepting his fate that Richie found to be surprisingly calming.

Bill stood up from the table and put a hand on Richie’s shoulder with a death grip that immediately clued Richie into the fact that Bill was incredibly misinterpreting the phrase. “Wh-what does it mean? You know, don’t you?”

Based on the phrasing, Richie was pretty sure he couldn’t turn this into IT knowing he was gay or anything. He nodded knowingly. “It’s not talking about Georgie, Bill.”

“Who the f-fuck else would it be talking a-about?!”

“Knock it off, Bill, god,” Eddie snapped. “He said it’s not about Georgie, so it isn’t.”

Richie gave him a weird look. ‘ _Since when isn’t Eddie taking Big Bill’s side?_ ’ They made eye contact, and Eddie looked away. “I swear Bill.”

The whole table went silent for a second, and the scars on their hands throbbed as if they had just been re-opened. Or, more accurately, opened for the first time.

Bill cleared his throat and took his hand off Richie’s shoulder. “S-Sorry…”

“For accusing me of knowing about your brother’s murder? You should be! You’re like a brother to me, Bill, you think I wouldn’t tell you?!” Richie grabbed the fortunes, intending to throw them in Bill’s face to guilt-trip him. To Richie’s horror, when they left his hand, they had transformed into something entirely different. The fortunes hit Bill’s face with a noise like jello being dropped on a sidewalk, and suddenly Bill’s face was covered in worms.

Bill jumped back in surprise, and Beverly screamed. “Oh, holy shit!” She shrieked, jumping back out of her chair. Richie panicked as well, immediately scanning the table for something to use to get rid of the worms.

Eddie looked sick to his stomach, and he quickly hopped out of his chair and started fumbling with his pockets in a way that reminded Richie of when they were kids. He recognized it as a search for an inhaler that Richie was surprised he still carried.

“I got it!” Stan shouted, leaning his whole body over the table, supporting his body weight with one hand, and using the other hand to backhand Bill across the face. Richie and Beverly backpedaled in surprise, and Bill shouted something muffled as worms flew off of his face, more taking their place, and the ones on the floor starting to move towards the other losers. “Sorry Bill!” Stan cringed, quickly withdrawing his hand.

Ben took a few steps back as Eddie, who was running backwards in an attempt to put as much distance between himself and the worms as possible, crashed into him. Instead of letting Eddie fall, Ben picked up the smaller man and held him like Scooby-Doo for a few seconds before they both went tumbling to the floor. A bunch of worms attached themselves to Ben, and Eddie clung onto him like a life raft.

Mike, still sitting in his seat, tried uselessly to shout over all the commotion. “It’s not real! Guys! Hey, IT’S NOT REAL!” The worms started to multiply at an incredibly rapid rate, covering not only Bill but the floor, walls, furniture, as even the other guests at the restaurant, who appeared to still be nonchalantly eating, except now their dinners were worms.

Both knowing that what he was seeing wasn’t real and, frankly, not being afraid of worms, Richie joined Mike in trying to convince the others to calm down. He grabbed Bill’s shoulders and tried his best to look him in the eyes while Bill flailed uselessly, yelling for help.

“It’s not real dipshit! Bill, _Bill_ , you’re a grown fucking man! These are imaginary worms! Man the fuck up and open your eyes!”

Beverly watched anxiously, her chest rising and falling visibly, revealing how worried she was. Mike was still trying to yell sense into Eddie and Ben, who were thrashing on the floor, Eddie worried about the worms and Ben worried about Eddie suffocating him. Stan was practically laying across the table, trying to kick his shoes off as fake worms climbed up them, his face reflecting pure fear.

Watching this all in practically slow motion, Richie knew that this situation relied on Bill to deflate. He almost cried in relief when Bill stopped screaming, and when the others followed, first Ben and Beverly, and then Eddie. The worms hadn’t gone away, however; there was still one loser that didn’t really believe.

Everyone switched their attention to Stan, who was still moving fitfully on the table. Bill reached out for Stan, but the man recoiled, mumbling quickly about how they were all covered in worms.

“W-We see them too, Stan! W-W-We’re all f-fucking scared! They’re not real, o-okay?!”

“There aren’t any worms Stan, fucking snap out of it!” Eddie pleaded, an expression on his face that told the others he was dangerously close to passing out.

Richie put his arms out. “Back up! Everyone fucking back up! He knows, just give him a second!” He practically shouted, trying to be heard over everyone yelling. Everyone backed up, except Mike, who was still glued to his chair. “Mike, get the fuck away from the table!”

He looked nervously between Richie and Stan, and then hesitantly stood up and backed away, looking almost as terrified as Eddie. Everyone watched Stan for a few seconds, the sounds of his panicked yelling and thrashing making their hearts ache.

After a few seconds, Richie spoke up.

“You’ve faced worse, Stanley! They’re fucking worms! Remember when I ate a worm junior year because you dared me to? Worms are fucking weak! Step on those fuckers!” Richie faced the others. “Come on, step on them!” He commanded, trying his best to stomp on the worms that were slowly beginning to cover every surface in the room.

The others joined in, and Stanley began to calm down, bringing his fists down on the table around his body to fend off the worms. He would slam the table, or someone would stomp their feet, and worms would go flying. It was only when Stanley saw this and truly believed that they were in control, that the image of the worms disappeared completely, leaving the group in the middle of the restaurant, being stared at.

Richie could have collapsed out of relief, was it possible.


	4. eddie brushes the dust off

“Yeah, I probably should’ve told you about the fortune cookies.”

“You _knew?!_ ”

Richie, who had agreed to let Stan stay in his room for the duration of their visit to Maine, spoke to the other man as they both got ready for bed. Richie shrugged, frowning to himself as he pulled on a night shirt. “Well last time they spelled a message about how you killed yourself, this time they were about how I did such a shitty job preventing that. How the fuck was I supposed to know they were still going to say something?”

Stan shrugged. “I don’t know… I just wish you told me that it happened the first time.” He sighed. “But I guess it never really came up. So I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk about it. But while we’re all still alive…” The room settled into silence, as if Stan was waiting for Richie to start talking. When he didn’t, Stan continued. “...could you tell me everything that’s supposed to happen tomorrow?”

The other boy fidgeted nervously with his glasses as he climbed into bed, pulling them off. In anticipation of rooming with Stan, Richie had booked a room with two beds. While he settled into the one closest to the door, Stanley sat down restlessly on the other bed a few feet away.

Only when they were both settled did Richie realize that he had no choice but to admit everything that he had seen. He was going to tell Stan about the time loops—for real, honestly tell him—and he was going to have to talk about the deaths of himself and of Eddie. Out loud.

“Well… the first time everything happened, we all came here. To Derry. I mean—that happened _every_ time, but—I’m just setting the stage. You know how it is.” And so he began to explain (with much rambling) the beginning of the first loop. Stan frowned when Richie talked about the hysteria that followed the news of his death. Stan didn’t actually stop Richie until he started speaking about the clubhouse.

“Hold on. You guys thought my token would be the shower caps?” He asked, sounding a little hurt.

Richie blinked in surprise, his flow of storytelling having been interrupted. “Oh! I mean, we weren’t really thinking about it. I think Mike told us to keep it as your token, but…” he realized how shitty that sounded only after he said it. “Oh. You’re right, now that I think about it. Because, like, you’ve always been so much more than the rest of us. You know what I mean? You never identified with the loser club, really, so thinking we would know what your token is is kinda dumb.”

The other man rolled his eyes. “And that the whole point of the tokens was to remember things that happened privately, but yes. It’s stupid either way that you all thought the shower caps would be my fucking _token_.”

“...Does it help that the tokens turned out to not be real?”

“Nope. You guys are officially the worst best friends ever.”

“C’mon Stan, don’t be such a bellend!” Richie whined in a bad British accent. Stan rolled his eyes at the attempt. However, he didn’t have any time to ask questions, because there was a knock at Richie’s door like in the previous loop. “What does he want this time,” Richie muttered, lifting his head to the door. “Come in!”

When the door swung open, it was Eddie, as Richie expected. The man’s gaze switched from Richie to Stan, and then back to Richie, where it stayed. “Hey you guys. I wanted to talk to Stan, I didn’t know—”

“We already said you could come in. Just say what you wanted to say.” Stan rolled his eyes, for some reason pretending to be annoyed by Eddie’s presence. He adjusted his posture when the other two men gave him weird looks, shifting uncomfortably under their gaze, as if that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “So?”

Eddie looked not at all bothered by Stan’s sudden mood swing. “I’m _getting_ there, god. I just wanted to know why you showed up, that’s all. It’s weird, you know? We weren’t expecting you to come back.”

The man smiled, his gaze flicking to Richie for just a moment. “Better than sitting at home and trying to live with myself, right?”

He wasn’t having it. “Seriously. What the fuck is going on? I know you, Stan.” He glared at Richie. “ _Don’t_ leave me out of this.”

Shit. It was almost like Eddie knew he was Richie’s weakness. “Okay man… but like, I don’t expect you to believe me.” Eddie nodded, gesturing for Richie to continue. “I’m stuck in a time loop from today to tomorrow, and the loop ends either when I go to sleep, or…” he pursed his lips. “When I uh… die.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, making an angry face, which wasn’t abnormal.

“I’m not.” Richie kept his face entirely still and cross, which wasn’t _remotely_ like him, even when pulling a joke.

Eddie’s facade fell. “You’re not?”

“You were right Eddie,” Stan cut in. “I didn’t show up to fight. The first few times, I killed myself before I could fuck it all up. Then... Richie called me, and he brought me here. Both of us are stuck.” The two silently agreed to not even try explaining the freaky ‘we talked in the afterlife’ stuff.

Their poor friend looked torn. “If you guys are fucking with me, it’s _not_ funny.” Despite that, he sounded convinced enough already. Eddie was gullible, and above that, he trusted Stan. With all the fucked up stuff that had been happening, although Eddie might not like it, Stan and Richie knew he would believe them.

“It’s true.” Stan mumbled, leaning back on his bed. “That’s what the fortune cookies were about. Th—”

“So _you’re_ the one Richie saved, not Georgie,” He concluded. Stan furrowed his eyebrows at being interrupted, but Eddie hardly noticed. “That’s fucking _crazy_ you guys! What—who else knows?!”

“Just you, Eddie darling.” Richie yawned as he flopped back onto his bed. “Was that all you wanted?”

His eyebrows furrowed the way they always did when Eddie was thinking. “Well, hold on! What did you see? What happened the past times? Did we win?”

Richie looked over at him, dreading answering the question he knew had been coming. “The definition of win is debatable. _I_ always lost. Stan always lost. But did we kill Pennywise? Yeah.” He had no intention of telling Eddie that he died, but he should’ve known the boy would pry.

“What do you mean _you_ didn’t win? I thought you said the loop ended when you went to sleep. That sounds like a win to me!”

Stan seemed to see where this was going. He cleared his throat and stood up, making his way to the doorway and past Eddie. “I’m going to get a drink. I’ll be back up, Richie.” He closed the door behind him before the others could reply, and Richie felt his anxiety starting to grow. His heart started beating fast in his chest, and he made eye contact with Eddie, who looked mad more than anything that Richie hadn’t spoken yet.

“Well?”

“You died.”

He started to speak but froze, suddenly processing what he’d been told. “I… died?” He blinked slowly, stricken by the weight of the words.

“Every fucking time.” Richie confirmed solemnly. “It’s the only thing I couldn’t fix... I could talk Stanley down from fucking killing himself, but I couldn’t get you not to…” He trailed off, remembering when he told Eddie not to run towards him, only to wake up to his face again. He remembered the feeling of dread, of not being able to move despite knowing what would follow, of feeling like the weight of the world was crushing him and he was struggling to breathe.

“Not to what?”

Maybe if he told him, he wouldn’t do it this time.

“Not to come near me, Eddie. I got caught in the deadlights—I, I just, I could _feel_ my soul leaving. Every time when I woke up, you were over me. You were worried, trying to wake me up. You kept telling me that you killed IT for good, and that you were strong, and you did it. And at first, I was—” Richie got caught on a sob. Eddie’s eyes were wide in fear as he listened. “—I was proud! You know? Little Eddie… you… I can’t get the image out of my head when I wake up. I can’t stop seeing the moment when you freeze up, and I feel your blood on my face, and…” He shoved his face in his hands and refused to continue, leaving the room in a shocked silence.

Eddie managed to fill in some of the blanks himself. As the story of his death processed, along with Richie and Stan’s supposed claim of being stuck in time, the other man found himself overwhelmed by ridiculous shit that would make any human being squirm. But Eddie didn’t need to think about it too long. This would be an unusual joke for Richie and Stan to pull, let alone for Stan to go along with. The smaller man couldn’t help but believe them, Richie’s words sinking into his brain and just… making sense. It was terrifying, sure, but Eddie knew he didn’t have to think twice about it. “So what do we do then?” He asked loud and clear, forcing the words out of his mouth despite not wanting an answer. Eddie, although believing his friends, wasn’t all-too comfortable with the idea of his own death. He really didn’t want to die again, if it could be helped. As any rational person wouldn’t, probably.

Richie ran a hand through his own hair. His fingers snagged on a few of his curls, but kept raking through them, the pain keeping him grounded. He exhaled dramatically before continuing. “Well… we don’t listen to Mike, first of all. He’s gonna spout some bullshit about tokens, but they’re a waste of time. Stan and I will need your help convincing everyone that we’re telling the truth tomorrow—just back us up, basically, we know the facts… and with all of us knowing how to kick the clown’s ass, we’ll manage just fine, I think.” He snuck a look at the other man. “Nobody is going to die again, Eddie. I’ll make sure of it. It can’t happen.”

Eddie nodded, unconvinced. “And what if you’re wrong? Clearly IT fucking knows what you and Stan are doing, it told us. It fucking told _all_ of us! And—you’re _still_ convinced we can win?! It’s probably the one keeping you and Stan stuck! It probably has complete fucking control over everything that’s happening here!” He rambled a bit, and Richie turned his head to face him. “I mean, we have a better chance if you know what happened and we have Stan, but we’re working against something that defies all fucking science, Richie! How do we even kill it?!”

“Yeah, come on Richie! Tell him!”

The boys jumped, flying forward off the bed as a young voice rang out from behind them. When they spun around, the boys were met with a younger version of Eddie—or rather, an incredibly skewed, fucked version of the man’s younger self. The fake Eddie was far from alive but still lifelike, it’s skin a sickly pale grey, his hair practically falling out of his skull. There was a waterfall of black goo trailing out of its mouth, which hung open as it kept speaking.

“Tell Eddie your secret! Come on, Richie. We’re _dying_ to know.”

The real Eddie glanced at Richie. Though his heart was pounding in his throat, he managed to demand, “What the hell is it talking about, Richie?!”

Richie spun around and tried to book it, but the door seemed to have disappeared. He felt his heart sink as the reality of the situation set it; IT was trying to force Richie to tell Eddie how he felt. It would scare Eddie off, and he wouldn’t help them kill IT. Maybe he’d even die again. And then it would restart, or Richie would die for good, and either way it would be fucking awful. He couldn’t possibly prepare himself for the outcome of the situation. The comedian took a shaky sigh and looked up at Eddie with big eyes. “It’s not… that has nothing to do with how to kill it. How to _kill_ it!” His eyes widened and his head snapped to the fake Eddie. Richie hopped over the bed towards IT, wrapping his hands around it’s throat without a moment’s hesitation.

“Richie, what the hell?! You can’t hurt it!” Eddie squawked in surprise at the sudden action.

Contrary to that, Richie squeezed his hands around Fake Eddie’s throat. He furrowed his eyebrows as the goo coming out of its mouth spilled all over his hand. It was burning hot, like tar or acid, but Richie didn’t care. He was going to _kill_ it. And he was—as Eddie had described more than once in past loops, he could feel the creature dying under his grip. He was staring IT dead in the eyes, not daring to look up for fear of it disappearing before Richie could finish the job.

Of course, it couldn’t be that easy.

Richie blinked, and suddenly beneath his hands was the Eddie that was just behind him, looking up at Richie with wide, scared eyes. Richie instinctively let go. “Eds?” He blinked in confusion, turning his head to confirm that Eddie was still behind him. He was, in fact, and looked pale as a ghost. Richie snapped his head back around only to see the fully-formed Pennywise’s jaw unclenching, stretching out, a feeling he remembered that could freeze him in his tracks. With no choice other than to close his eyes to avoid being caught, Richie did just that, awkwardly bending backwards over the bed and kicking Pennywise in the chest, doing a painful backwards somersault onto the floor on the other side of the bed. He landed on his ass, bruising his tailbone, and sending his glasses flying off his face.

“You couldn’t kill me, could you Richie?” Eddie’s voice rang throughout the room, causing the real Eddie to scream. “Why don’t you tell me _why that is?_ ” The voice of his friend garbled and warped into a voice that was unmistakably Pennywise, and Richie felt his skin crawl as he remained paralyzed with fear.

The sinking feeling of dread in Richie’s chest only grew as he kept his eyes shut. He knew what he needed to do to get rid of it; he needed to give it what it wanted. Believing it was fake only worked sometimes, and if Eddie was in any danger, Richie couldn’t rely on Eddie calming down enough to convince himself it wasn’t real. Richie needed to act fast, and he did so in the only way he knew how. He made sure not to open his eyes, more so he couldn’t see Eddie, who was standing above him, than to prevent himself from looking at IT. He cleared his throat to yell.

“BECAUSE I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH HIM, OKAY?! I CAN’T WATCH HIM DIE AGAIN! BUT YOU’RE NOT HIM, AND I’M GONNA KILL YOU, MOTHERFUCKER! YOU HEAR ME?!”

The room remained silent for some time. Richie was too terrified to move. There were so many possible outcomes, but mostly, he was afraid of waking back up in his changing room, afraid to be startled awake again by Lorraine banging on the door telling him he was on in two minutes. Scared of getting another phone call from Mike. Scared of waiting to see if Stan would show up or not. Absolutely terrified of feeling like Derry was drawing him back in after it had disappeared when they killed IT.

Instead, Richie flinched instinctively when he felt something touch his face. He shot up, making hard contact with something solid with a loud clacking noise. “ _OW!_ That fucking _hurt_ , dipshit!” Richie opened his eyes. Eddie was standing above him, cradling his jaw, and Richie could see him clearly—oh. Eddie had put Richie’s glasses back on for him. The comedian sat up slowly, his head spinning, and Eddie remained standing behind him. “Shit… look where the fuck you’re moving to next time. Prick.”

Richie wrapped his arms around his knees and leaned his head against them. He didn’t even turn to look at Eddie. He could tell Eddie wasn’t freaking out and leaving like he’d expected, but it didn’t really matter. He had been dragged out of the closet and tossed into the light when he wasn’t ready. Pennywise had exposed a part of Richie he’d spent years burying deep within himself and still wasn’t fully okay with. He had shown it to Eddie, of all people, who Richie was most afraid of losing at that point. He couldn’t help it when his glasses started fogging up as fat tears rolled down his cheeks, the man all but sobbing, his fist clenching in the fabric of his comfort jacket.

Behind him, Eddie said nothing. This made it infinitely worse as nothing interrupted Richie’s breakdown until minutes later, when the door swung open, marking the return of Stan. Eddie being behind the door, Stan didn’t even notice him, all the man’s attention immediately tuning into Richie. “Holy shit, are you alright Rich?!” He set down a glass of scotch on the nightstand and knelt beside the man, who was still having a hard time speaking through his violent crying, leaving him struggling to so much as breathe through his own tears.

“Stan, I—I’m sorry…”

Stan’s attention snapped up to Eddie, and he jumped a bit, not having noticed the other man’s presence. “ _Holy_ —Eddie, What the fuck happened?! What did you _do?_ ” He immediately went on the offensive, knowing something must’ve happened regarding Richie’s feelings for Eddie.

The man’s eyes widened. “Not me! I mean… I-IT attacked him. He tried to choke IT, but he saw my face I think! IT kept mentioning a—a secret. It must mean the loop, y’know?!” To Eddie’s credit, he was trying not to out Richie to Stan. Unfortunately for him, Stan already knew, and Richie’s breakdown was only intensified due to his complete misinterpretation of Eddie’s intentions by not mentioning his begrudging coming out.

“Eddie, just shut up.” Stan said coldly. “Richie…” He rubbed circles in the comedian’s back. “Count backwards from ten. Like we did when we were kids, remember? Calm your breathing, and everything else will get better. Shh, just count...”

Richie obeyed him. Instead of counting out loud, he did so silently, over and over, letting Stan’s comfort methods bring him down to earth. The boys had discovered what worked to calm each other at the very beginning of their friendship back in elementary school—for Richie, counting backwards, constant reassurance, and physical touch. As with most things, Stan was nearly the opposite. He needed complete silence and to remain untouched, but not alone. Richie would just sit back and speak to Stan as if he wasn’t freaking out, cracking jokes and talking about his home life, saying anything he would normally say until Stan calmed down enough to respond. They had forgotten those memories for so long, but as they resurfaced, Richie and Stan found themselves even closer than they thought they were.

“...Sorry. I really thought I could kill it.” Richie managed after what felt like hours. Eddie audibly sighed, and Stan did so more discreetly. Richie laughed, though it was shaky. “When it turned into him I knew I was fucked. I—he… IT...God, I fucking can’t. Eddie, fucking tell him, please.”

Eddie shrunk into himself as Stan stared up at him wordlessly. He opened his mouth to speak several times before he managed any words. “...The fucking clown asked him why he couldn’t kill it when it looked like me. He said… he yelled…” Eddie swallowed hard. “He told IT that he couldn’t watch me die again because he’s… in love with me.”

Those words hung in the air for a moment, and Richie’s laughter, gargled with tears, interrupted it. “Yeah. That’s the gist of it.”

“...Well?”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed. He was still pale and shaking from the weight of the situation. He was stripped of his usual intimidation, his meanness falling flat and weak. “What? Well what? That’s it!”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got nothing to say about Richie crying after being forced to come out to you?” That earned another strangled laugh from the comedian, and Stan continued rubbing circles in his friend’s back in response.

“I… what would _I_ have to say about it?”

“Stan, stop it.” Richie pleaded.

“No. Fuck that. I died twice already, I’m not letting it happen again. That means you two sort your shit out _before_ we have to fight to the death, got it? Now, Eddie. What do you have to say?”

The tension hanging in the air was between Richie and Eddie only; Stan was perfectly content. This was no effort, on Stan’s end, to get them together. Nothing even remotely of the sort. His only intention was to air out any bad blood between the two of them before they would be quite literally fighting for their lives the next afternoon. Stan was _never_ just some third wheel to Richie and Eddie’s endeavors. He was a good friend to both of them, and a best friend to Richie. Not to mention, a husband with a family to return to. Stan was looking out for them. He always had been, he always would be—as long as he remembered them and no matter what it took

Eddie knew this. Richie did, too. Neither of them wanted to confront the truth, but it had been ripped out of them and thrown into the dirt. Eddie could grind it under his heel, or, per Stan’s suggestion, he could pick it up and brush the dust off.

“...I’m… Richie, I—” He looked freaked out. His hands were trembling, the telltale sign that he was trying not to reach for his inhaler. “—I’m in… I’m in love with you too, I-I think.” Richie’s breath hitched. “Don’t—I—” Eddie began tearing up. “I felt terrible about it growing up. I thought something was wrong with me, that I was sick, that I was gonna _die_ . But… it never, it didn’t _go away_ , and I—I’m still f-fucking breathing—Christ, I sound like Bill—and Richie, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you sooner because I was fucking afraid. I still am, but, but Stan is right. I need to be a fucking man and own it. I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” Eddie’s voice cracked and trailed off.

Everything was out in the open.

Despite that, it still took a while for Richie to wipe his eyes and turn around, and by the time he did, he was already starting to cry again and his glasses were still too foggy to see Eddie properly and he couldn’t manage to do anything but cry harder as Stan helped him to his feet. As soon as he was standing, Eddie took him into his own arms, hugging Richie under his arms so he could support the man’s weight. Richie crashed into him, his glasses pressing uncomfortably against his own face and his teeth clacking hard as he shoved his face into Eddie’s shoulder to cry, feeling the man’s arms wrap around him. Neither of them felt the weight lift like they thought it would. They felt gross, worse than before, when everything was safely bottled up. Richie had a part of him exposed without his permission, and Eddie had admitted something that he was convinced was a death sentence of itself.

Stan helped Eddie lift Richie into bed when it seemed like he couldn’t stand on his own anymore. Eddie hesitantly went back to his own room, and Stan sat down on Richie’s bed, rubbing his arm silently as he cried more than Stan would’ve thought possible for someone he’d never seen drink water in all the thirty plus years they’d known each other. Eventually, he drifted off, and Stan turned out the lights.


	5. a bad day for ben hanscom

Needless to say, although the rest of the group was nowhere near as gullible as Eddie, it did not take much convincing for them to believe Richie, Stan  _ and _ Eddie. If Stan was in on it, they must’ve been telling the truth. Especially if Eddie and Richie were  _ agreeing _ . The evidence they pulled out helped, although it was somewhat embarrassing. Ben’s poem (surprising literally nobody except Ben, Beverly and Bill), the piece of paper Ben kept in his wallet, Bill and Mike’s trip, the lie Mike told about the indigenous people that attempted the ritual before them, and the fact that Stan had killed himself twice. With all of that combined, everyone was more or less sold.

“So… how do we kill it?” Beverly asked, seeming much less defeated by the revelation than the others. “I mean, you must’ve seen what happens later today.  _ Can _ we kill IT?”

Richie nodded. “Uh, I mean, yeah. We have every time so far.” The other losers sighed in relief. “But someone still died every time. Not once have we come out on the other side of it whole. Never. We have to be as careful as possible… who knows if the loop will repeat if anyone dies. Besides… we want it to end with us all alive, don’t we?”

Everyone agreed. Bill stepped forward. “Then what the fuck are we waiting for? Why don’t we go kill it now?”

“We need to take care of Bowers first.” Everyone, Eddie and Stan included, looked at Richie weirdly. His eyes widened. “Ohh, shit! I completely fucking forgot! Bowers is on his way to kill Eddie!”

Eddie looked appalled. “How the fuck could you  _ forget _ that, asshole?!”

“Well he never  _ succeeds! _ Besides, we’re in the clubhouse, he doesn’t even know this place exists!”

“ _ Richie _ ,” Bill said in the exhausted tone people usually used when they were fed up with him. “Things like that are important. You’ve gotta tell us if there’s anything else like that you forgot. Where is Bowers?”

He swallowed nervously. “Uhh… shit, I dunno. I think he stabbed Eddie at the hotel.”

Ben nodded. “Then I guess we’re all going back. We should stick together. We need to be ready for anything.”

Nobody objected. They all began climbing out of their hideout, and as they walked through the woods back up to the main road, Eddie and Richie lagged behind a bit. This wasn’t abnormal; usually, Eddie was too caught up in bickering with Richie for them to keep pace with the other losers. That day, however, the air was thick with tension, and both the boys were silent. As soon as everyone except them was out of sight, Eddie put his arm out, stopping Richie in his tracks. He looked over in surprise.

“What, you see somethin’, Eddie?”

Eddie pursed his lips. “...No. We should talk about yesterday.”

“Well, yeah, but can’t it wait until after all this killer clown junk? We can’t afford to be separated from the group right now… let’s catch up.” Richie was silently pleading with Eddie to let him go.

Fortunately for him, Eddie was never too bold. He wavered at the mention of potential danger, and remembering the previous night’s events in their entirety, allowed Richie to pass him. The two emerged from the woods after a minute and as soon as everyone was accounted for, they all took off back towards the hotel.

The losers entered with caution. Everyone stayed grouped together as they checked and cleared the first floor, confirming that there was no sign of their childhood tormentor anywhere. It was the second floor that had everyone on edge, since according to what Richie had recounted to them, Eddie was supposedly attacked in an upstairs bathroom. They entered the bathroom in the first door—Eddie’s.

Ben and Richie happened to be the first people in the room. 

They looked around and didn’t see anything. Ben shrugged. “Maybe we’re early. Or too late.” He glances over at Richie. “Or maybe he isn’t coming this time.”

Richie scoffed. “Yeah, I hope so. That f—” Before he could continue, Richie let out a scream as he was tackled from behind, the side of his body wacking hard against the sink as he was whipped around, the grip around his body tightening. “What the h—” He managed as he tried to wrestle free. Unfortunately for Richie, his captor was  _ not _ giving him a break. The man screamed again as a knife was driven into the side of his face, earning similar noises of terror from all his friends watching the display. Ben took a step forward and Richie felt the knife be ripped out of his skin, causing him to slam his eyes shut and grit his teeth in pain. He felt the wet metal be pressed against the side of his neck.

“Would be a real shame… if I killed this faggot before any of you could stop me. Oh, I should’a done this a long time ago!” Bowers cackled from behind as the blade dug into Richie’s skin, emitting a hiss from the comedian as blood began pouring down his neck. Henry cackled in delight as Richie’s blood ran over his fingers.

Bill put a hand on Ben’s shoulder and moved forward to his side. Ben tensed up until he realized who it was. “Bowers, b-back the  _ fuck _ off.”

The lunatic seemed only further entertained by Bill’s display. “You still got that stutter, B-B-B-B-Billie?!” He dug the knife deeper and Richie screamed, Bill freezing in his tracks. Mike ducked his head out of the doorway, feeling a bit queasy.

“Leave him alone!” Eddie shouted, shoving his way into the bathroom past Mike. “Stop! You came here to kill me, Richie said so! So fucking kill me, you  _ mullet wearing asshole! _ ”

Eddie only paled for a moment when Bower’s attention snapped to him, but quickly shook it off and opted for a stare-down. He widened his arms into a wrestler stance, anticipating an attack. To everyone’s surprise, it worked. Richie gasped when Henry pulled the knife out of his neck, and nobody was at all prepared when the man suddenly charged at Eddie. Nobody, that is, except Ben. The strongest (or at least the most jacked) member of the Loser’s club slammed his full weight into Bowers, and the man’s body went flying backwards. The sickening crack of Bowers’ skull against the tile echoed throughout the room along with his pig-like squeal as the knife he was holding clattered to the floor. Henry himself dropped like a sack of flour, crumpling to the floor wailing in agony. Eddie dove over his body, retrieving the dropped knife, and before anyone could object, he drove it into Henry’s skull.

Eddie and Richie’s eyes were closed. Ben and Bill weren’t so lucky. Where Bill groaned and had to leave the room, Ben leaned over and lost his lunch into the bathtub at the sight of their bully’s skull being proved open with his own knife, a spout of blood drenching Eddie and leaking out onto the dirty floor. Eddie himself was trembling in terror, and immediately started wiping blood off his face, scrambling to stand up and get away from the body. The blood seemed to surprise him more than his own actions, although surely that would later affect him just the same.

Beverly rushed into the bathroom after Bill left and stepped over Henry’s body, holding a first-aid kit, rushing to dress Richie’s wounds. “Richie? Are you okay? You’re losing a lot of blood, he stabbed right through your cheek…” She asked, worry ballooning in her voice. When the boy only managed a groan, her concern grew. “O-Okay, never mind. Don’t say anything. Just hold still and stay awake while I patch you up. Okay Richie?”

Behind her, Stan dragged Ben and Eddie out of the bathroom. Ben still looked green, but Eddie looked sicker. He took them into the next room over to help them clean up, and Bill and Mike took that as their cues to enter the bathroom. Bill leaned against the wall and Mike took a seat on the edge of the bathtub furthest from Ben’s lunch. Mike leaned around Beverly to get a look at Richie, and his eyes widened. “Wow Rich… that looks really bad.”

“Jesus, guys, I’m fine…” He grumbled. “Better me than Eddie, right?”

Bev frowned. “What? What are you—what happened?” After remembering the time loop, her expression softened. “The first times, I mean.”

He didn’t make a move to respond, and at first, the others didn’t think he would. “Pretty much the same thing,” Richie responded after a minute. “Stab in the cheek, a little roughed up from the fight. Bowers got away though. I… I was the one who had to kill him. In the library.”

Bill furrowed his eyebrows. “O-okay, so obviously this t-time loop shit is real…” He held his head, frustrated by his stutter. “Then how do we kill IT? W-w-we do, you said.”

When Beverly was done patching up Richie’s cheek, she sat back, instantly groaning and standing up when her pants soaked with Henry’s blood. She stood between Mike and Bill, frowning down at Richie as he took his time responding. “Yeah. Well basically… we have to throw some Twitter insults at IT until it believes it’s a small baby, and then we have to rip it’s heart out and crush it. We can’t fight it with brute force until it’s small. But in the first loop Eddie so cleverly figured out that it has to abide by the rules of its form or whatever, and… and that’s it. We have to believe it’s small, make it small, and kill it’s ass. Any more questions, class?” He groaned, still holding his cheek in dazed shock.

Mike blinked in surprise. “So… that means—”

“Your stupid ritual plan failed every time, and it got Eddie  _ killed _ every time. Yeah.” He snapped.

Bev frowned. “Richie—”

“Don’t ‘Richie’ me, Bev. I’m fuckin’ sick of it! I’ve lived through the worst day of my life four goddamn times already and I’m not  _ doing _ it again! I can’t keep sitting around while it kills people! I can’t  _ watch _ Eddie die again! Don’t you understand?! It’s driving me crazy, because no matter what I do, everything always turns out the same way!” He choked, his tears stopping his rant before he even realized he was crying. He hadn’t even realized how much it was becoming, between reliving the past and not knowing what’s happening or what’s causing it or how to end it. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe he was in hell. He didn’t  _ know _ . When his friends realized he couldn’t talk anymore, Bev sat back down at his side this time and wrapped her arm around him. He leaned his head against her shoulder, feeling comforted by her hand on his back.

It didn’t take long for Mike and Bill to follow suit—Bill sitting on the bloody floor in front of Richie and Mike comforting him from the edge of the tub. As the feeling of his friends’ presence washed over him, Richie relaxed, the hard crying reducing to just a silent streak of tears over what felt like a really long time.

It was interrupted when Stan walked into the room holding a skateboard. Everyone looked up when they heard his shoes on the tile, and they all silently knew what was going on when they saw the condition of the board.

“ _ NICE TRY _ .”

They all stared at the bloody writing in silence for a moment before Stanley tucker the board under his arm, a solemn expression on his face. He looked down at Richie like he was apologizing. “I don’t think we have any more time to lose,” he said softly, stepping back towards the door. “As soon as Eddie’s done in the shower, we should go. ...So like, an hour.”

An hour. That was how long Richie had to prepare for the possibility that he was being forced to watch Eddie die, impossible to save him.

“Alright…” He mumbled, reaching for Ben’s hand to help pull him off the floor. He stumbled for a moment before gaining his vision. “Let’s go fucking kill it, then.”

***

The loser’s club showed up outside Niebolt a few hours before sunset, armed with nothing. No tokens, no weapons—just a shitload of confidence and anger that’s been threatening to boil over for damn near thirty years. They made their descent following Richie, who clearly knew the way to go. Everyone followed him confidently. He had been right until that point, why would they stop trusting him? When it got to the point where they needed to descend, Richie held Eddie back. They never had gotten to talk things out, and Eddie visibly brightened, thinking they were finally going to. Richie could feel his stomach doing flips like they were kids again at the look in his eyes—a feeling he had to suppress or, mixed with his nerves, he might throw up.

“What’s up, Richie?”

He stared at Eddie seriously, and the hopeful light in the smaller man’s eyes faded. That helped Richie’s nerves, oddly. “I need you to promise me you won’t turn your back on it until it’s dead. You hear me? I don’t care if one of us is bleeding out, screaming in agony, calling your name. You don’t let it get you. Okay?” He said as seriously as Eddie had ever seen him. Eddie wasn’t sure what to make of that. Any confidence he had drained out of him. “We—we can talk after we get out of here, but Eddie, we can’t do that if you’re dead. You understand?” Slowly, he nodded. Richie sighed in relief, patting Eddie’s shoulder. “Great. Let’s go then.”

“...Wait.”

Richie swallowed. “What, Eddie?”

“I… actually like it better when you call me Eds.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but Richie was hanging onto every word, his heart beating out of his chest like crazy. “I-I just knew that if I said I hated it, you’d never stop.” Richie had been purposefully looking away until that point, but when he heard Eddie’s voice crack, he whipped his head around to see that Eddie was furiously wiping at his eyes with his sweatshirt sleeves. “I’m sorry.”

Richie stepped forward. “Don’t be sorry…” He cautiously wrapped his arms around Eddie, a sense of relief ballooning in his chest when Eddie immediately hugged him harder. Richie let Eddie cry for a few seconds, rubbing his back. “Come on Eddie… stop acting like you’re gonna die. We should go catch up. If it wasn’t for you, we never would have won. We can do this.”

The shorter man laughed, stepping back. “I hope you’re right... I just wanted t—AHHH!” He screamed suddenly. Both boys flinched and stumbled away from the hole in the ground, from which they heard wild laughter.

“Sorry,” Mike laughed, caught off guard by their reaction. “I was just making sure you guys were alive!”

“You didn’t have to grab me!” Eddie hissed, his face red in embarrassment (and probably from crying). “Move it, let’s just go!” He grumbled, following a laughing Mike down into the sewers. He spared one more look at Richie as Mike’s laughter echoed up from below. “You coming?”

Richie blinked in surprise, pushing his glasses up on his face. “...Yeah Eds, right behind you.”

Eddie ducked his face down before Richie could see it get redder. The group found their way into Pennywise’s lair in no time flat, and for the first time since they’d been reunited, Stan reached for Richie’s hand. Richie could tell he was scared shitless—after all, he hadn’t intended in ever coming back. It was what he had been running away from all along, and to finally be there and be unsure of his fate was maddening. Richie squeezed his hand. He could feel Stan relaxing under his grip.

The cave was empty as Richie expected. Everyone stepped forward, getting their bearings as they waited for IT to show it’s face.

“Come on,” Richie grumbled, stepping forward. “Hey, dickhead! Get your head out of your ass and come fight us!” He shouted.

To his surprise, a large spotlight shone into the large nest-lookin’ thing where Mike’s crazy ritual happened before. The losers braced themselves for what would step into the light. They were confused when, instead of a clown, they saw a woman. She looked up at them slowly and grinned, baring horrific teeth.

“ _ Stanley Uris _ .”

Stan squeezed Richie’s hand so hard he could feel the circulation cutting off. Richie didn’t dare pull his hand away; he needed Stan not to be scared. “Wow Stan, your biggest fear is Eddie’s mom?” He said loud enough for everyone to hear, but not jarring enough to tear anyone’s gaze from the clown except Eddie. Stan just laughed, his grip loosening slightly. “If I’d known, I would have brought condoms!”

“Beep beep,” Beverly said just loud enough for him to hear. Richie did shut up, and to his relief, it seemed to have been enough. Stan let go of his hand and stepped to the front of the group. “Stan? What are y—”

“HEY! I’m not afraid of you, you got it?!” The woman began walking towards the losers. “Maybe when I was a kid, but you’re just a painting to me now. You’re just a fucking  _ painting _ .” Mirroring Stan’s words, the lady’s form became more abstract, a frame appearing around her face. Richie cheered Stan on, and the boy smiled widely. “You’re just a painting! You can’t hurt us!”

Richie stepped forward. “Yeah, listen to him! You’re not real, fuckface! You’re just a dumb painting!”

“You’re not scary!” Eddie joined. The painting clattered to the floor; the face a frozen, petrified expression.

Richie dashed towards it. He took a running start, jumping into the air, preparing to stomp through and break the canvas. He brought his feet down hard on the woman’s face, all while yelling wildly, the losers yelling various reactions. Just before Richie’s shoes made contact with the canvas, it opened up on it’s own, sending Richie flying down into a hole that was  _ definitely _ not there before. He screamed and looked around desperately, hearing the other losers call his name as the only source of light—the top of the hole—disappeared. He hit solid ground, knocking the wind out of him and sending the man tumbling onto his face.

He groaned and rolled onto his back, trying to figure out where the hell the clown had taken him. When he saw the sky and the lights, his eyes widened and he shot up into a sitting position. He _knew_ where he was.

“You okay, Richie?”

The man scrambled forward away from the sound, taking note of his own scrawny child body, desperately twisting to ensure the voice from behind him wouldn’t touch him. When he focused his vision, panting wildly, he was met with a young and wide-eyed Connor Bowers, his hand held out as Richie thought it might be in an attempt to touch him. Connor stepped closer again, furrowing his eyebrows. “Rich? What’s going o—”

“Stay the fuck away from me!” Richie squeaked in horror, his own young voice scaring him as he kicked at the fake Connor in an attempt to keep him away. “You’re not real! You’re not, you can’t be!”

Connor laughed, and the sound made Richie’s heart sink. He tried so hard to forget about that. “Well I think I’m pretty real… what do  _ you _ think I am? Come on, get off the ground, dude.” He extended his hand back to Richie. They were in the schoolyard late at night, and Richie could see the starry sky behind Connor, the light from a street lamp reflecting across the boy’s face in a warm orange glow. “Hello, earth to Trashmouth?”

Richie frowned. “Don’t call me that.”

The boy looked amused. “Yeah? Why, what do you  _ want _ me to call you?”

“Leave me alone, you fucking clown!” Richie groaned, standing up to the best of his ability. He stumbled a bit, and Connor immediately moved to catch him. Richie freaked out, trying wildly to bat Connor off of him. They both toppled to the ground on opposite sides of each other, Richie Lansing on his ass and Connor flat on his back.

“Ow! Richie, what the  _ fuck _ got into you?!” The curly-haired boy complained.

“Stop it! I know it’s not him, you’re not real!” Richie yelled, trying to stand up more slowly. He was still dizzy and unsteady, but much more successful than his first attempt.

He remembered what happened the first time. They snuck out to play kickball, they got caught and booked it towards the school, and when they hid in the shadows, Connor leaned in. And Richie ran again. He didn’t regret it; he knew Connor couldn’t be with him. He was a lot deeper in the closet than Richie was (which is certainly saying something). He knew it would just hurt both of them in the end. But that wasn’t why he ran, that was just how he coped.

Richie’s stomach dropped as everything came back to him.  _ ‘If I can’t get rid of IT by believing it’s not real _ …’ He remembered, his dizziness and dread making him sick to his stomach.  _ ‘I have to face my fear _ .’

“Richie,” Connor groaned. “Is this a fucking bit again? It’s not funny..”

Richie sighed, running a hand through his hair. He reached the other one down to help Connor up. “Yeah… sorry, that usually makes Stan laugh. He has a weird sense of humor.”

Connor raised an eyebrow again, a gesture Richie remembered him doing a lot whenever Richie said stupid shit. “And you thought I would think it was funny… because we look similar?”

“Uh… no… you’re hotter than Stan?” Richie was incredibly uncomfortable with what he had to do, but it wasn’t like he could fistfight the alien in his scrawny high school body. He just had to man up and face his fear.

“You think so?” Connor laughed again, Richie’s blood boiling.

He impatiently reached out and grabbed Connor’s face by the sides. The other boy’s eyes widened again, giving him the same doe-eyed look that Richie used to be weak to. “Yeah. Shut the fuck up though,” the Trashmouth demanded, throwing back a phrase that Connor would casually toss at Richie a lot when they were kids. He used his ex-crush’s moment of stunned silence to make his move; he leaned in and kissed him, disgusted with himself and Connor, wanting nothing more than to run away again. He didn’t feel brave for facing his fear. He did, however, feel relieved. It was almost therapeutic, getting it out of the way.

It was weird how realistic the kiss felt, and how it didn’t feel as alien-like as Richie would expect. His own disgust aside, he felt oddly the way he thought he might when he thought about kissing a real man. Richie, keeping his eyes shut and praying he wouldn’t open them to IT’s face, pulled back after a few seconds. “...Sorry um… I just want to be friends?” He said out of terror, for lack of anything better to say.

“Well _that’s_ a relief.”

Richie’s eyes flew open in surprise to Ben’s face, who was smiling at him in amusement. Richie’s jaw dropped. “Sorry! I just… you were unconscious, and I knew it helped Beverly the first time—”

Before Ben could respond, Richie kicked him hard in the shin and tackled him. They both screamed as they tumbled to the ground, just in the nick of time. Pennywise’s odd appendage flew over their heads moments after they fell out of it’s range, and Richie quickly rolled off his friend. “Thanks Ben! Sorry, I knew that was coming!” He popped to his feet and extended a hand to Ben, who grasped it quickly. “You’re a good kisser, by the way! I’ll be having wet dreams about that for months.”

“Beep beep,” Ben replied, although he didn’t have his heart in it. If anything, he looked more relieved once Richie opened his mouth. “Come on. Everyone else is hiding.”

The two of them ducked over into the hiding spot with the rest of the losers who, to Richie’s relief, remained intact. Mike was the first to notice them, lifting his head when Richie and Ben slid down into the safe place. “Hey, it worked!” Everyone else looked up too, all of them instantly brightening at the sight of the other men. “Good job, Ben! Richie, we didn’t want to kill it while you were still in the deadlights. Sorry…”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Don’t apologize for saving my life, Mike. It ruins the moment.” Mike shut his mouth in a thin smile. “So guys, what are we waiting for?” Richie felt even more energized than before (even though his first real kiss was technically Ben, it was still his first kiss, and Richie was excited. Besides, Ben is hot).

Eddie scrambled to his feet. He and Richie made eye contact, and the smaller nodded. Neither of them could help the determined smiles that spread across their faces. “Just you, Rich.” Everyone else followed him up. “We’re ready. Let’s go kill this fucking clown for good.”

Richie let a laugh escape him. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, Eds.”

Eddie’s smile widened in pride.


	6. underwater kissing is really unsanitary

The losers club stood outside of Niebolt as it collapsed—all seven of them, for the very first time. After Richie and Ben made it to safety, everything else was smooth sailing. They all killed IT the same way they always did, except this time, nobody died. As they made the same hike to the quarry as they usually did after the fight, Richie felt himself surging with adrenaline and joy. He had _done_ it. He saved everybody. He and Stan, of course—it was really a group effort, but without the loop it obviously never could have ended in such a way.

They plunged into the water, all laughing and smiling as the weight of twenty seven long years was lifted off their shoulders. This was no longer a town they were drawn to or trapped in or afraid of. It was just a town. The place they grew up. It meant absolutely nothing, and the losers could leave whenever they wanted without having to worry about being dragged back. Richie made sure to splash as many of his friends as possible, and as he heard them complain or laugh or splash water right back at him, it reminded him that they were real. They were in front of him, and they were okay. _He had done it_.

“Sorry to break it to you, Beverly, but Ben and I are now a devoted couple.” He exaggerated, slinging and arm around Ben’s shoulder, who rolled his eyes. “See? He’s ecstatic!” Ben shoved Richie’s head underwater, earning a laugh from everyone else. He resurfaced, glaring playfully at the taller man. “That’s spousal abuse. I’m calling my lawyer. Stan, Ben’s being mean!”

“I’m an accountant, Richie, not a lawyer.”

“Well, I was close! I knew it was one of those Jewish jobs.” Stan splashed him in response. Richie wiped the water out of his eyes and stuck his tongue out at the man. “Fine, be that way! I’ll get a better lawyer…”

Stan’s eyes widened. “Ohhh, fuck. Guys I have to call Patty…” He scrambled towards the beach suddenly, and Eddie looked a bit deflated, sinking back into the water. “Be right back!” He called.

Bill shrugged. “I left Audra on a bad note too. I don’t know if she’ll still want to talk to me. I should probably call her, right..?”

“Yes!” Bev insisted. “You can’t just leave her like that, that’s awful, Bill. I know you had to lie to get here, but you should try to make it up to her.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but with the look of stone she was sending his way, he gave up. “Okay, Beverly. I trust you... Stan, wait up!” Bill was next to dash out of the water, and Stan stopped, already nearly out of sight from the other losers. And so there were five—all the bachelors, plus Eddie. They relaxed in a shallow part of the water where they could sit down, exhausted both from the fight with Pennywise and the splash fight Richie initiated. Since it was late before the fight began, the sky was now a huge mess of stars and the moon half-submerged in dark clouds like it might rain. Most of them weren’t bothered by it; they were already wet, after all.

“Man. What losers, with loving wives and all. Can’t believe we’re gonna be like that in a few years, Ben.”

Ben laughed. “Stop it! I didn’t know what else to do, okay?! It worked!”

“Oh, don’t worry. All jokes. Everyone knows you have the hots for—”

“Shut UP, Richie.” Beverly hugged Ben reassuringly. Richie had no idea if something went down with them, but they hadn’t underwater kissed like before. He felt a little guilty. Had he prevented that..? “Let Ben take his time. Don’t be mean…”

Everyone looked at her weirdly. Her voice didn’t have the same playful infliction as always. Ben shook her a little bit. “Hey. You okay?”

She nodded. “Just… Bill doesn't remember. Or if he did, he hasn’t said anything. It’s like he just… I-I know he’s married, but I thought… he didn’t even recognize the poem.” Ben’s eyes widened. “I tried to tell him about it and he was acting like he didn’t remember. Maybe he really doesn’t… is it stupid to be stuck up on this? It was forever ago. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Bev laughed weakly, wiping her eyes.

Mike shook his head. “Don’t worry, Bev. Bill didn’t forget you. He was so in love with you, it isn’t his fault or yours that he moved on. It’s just what happens—”

“—Do you mean January embers?” Ben interrupted suddenly, as if he’d seen a ghost.

Everyone except Beverly stared at Ben like he was a lunatic. Before Richie could crack wise about the outburst, Beverly continued the poem. “Your hair is like winter fire… my heart burns there too! That was _you?!_ ” She seemed totally floored by whatever their exchange was while the other three watched them come to their simultaneous conclusion awkwardly. “I was convinced Bill wrote that poem!”

Ben’s face flushed. “Yeah… I—I never told you because I thought you’d be disappointed…”

She smiled widely—it didn’t matter if Richie was gay or not, he thought her smile was one of the most beautiful things in the world. Even when they were kids, he was jealous. He wished he had her big attractive smile instead of his crooked buck-toothed one. Even after growing into his looks and suffering through years of braces, Richie’s smile still paled in comparison. However, he wasn’t jealous of it anymore. It just spread to him like wildfire.

“Are you kidding me, new kid? You saved our asses today! You were the first person in this town to ever be nice to me… I couldn’t ask for anybody better to be my secret admirer.” She elbowed him lightly, her smile stuck on her face and widening by the second. It was a true and genuine confession, and it was clear by the look on Ben’s face that he’d been waiting for it for a long time.

Richie’s guilt wavered when they dipped underwater together, and Eddie made a gagging noise. “Man, kissing in this gross water? They’re fucking asking to catch a disease.”

“Yeah, that’s what your mom said when we—”

“Shut the fuck up about my mom!” Eddie snapped.

Mike sighed. “We should probably start going when they come back up. We need to pack everything and leave before someone discovers Bowers and we all get arrested,” he reasoned.

Eddie snorted. “By who, the cops? They never did shit in this town. We don’t have to start packing up until tomorrow morning at the latest. Trust me, we’ll be fuckin’ peachy.”

Ben emerged from the water first, grinning like he’d just been crowned king of the world. Bev popped up moments later, spitting gross water out of her mouth. She looked as exhausted as the rest of them did, and as most of them felt, despite her winning smile. She must have heard them from underwater, because she jumped into their conversation. “Mike is right. We should at least go to sleep, it’s getting late. And we don’t have anything to be afraid of in the dark anymore.” The last sentence was practically whispered, but everyone heard it. She stood up, breaking the silence with the noise of the water falling off her body, and everyone stood up with her beginning a slow silent walk to the woods. They hiked up as quietly as possible in case Bill and Stan were still on the phone, but by the time they got there, the other two were fully clothed and waiting in silence. Stan had a hand on Bill’s back—it seemed like one of the phone calls went significantly worse than the other. When the losers club was fully dressed, they began their walk back to the hotel.

Richie’s stopped walking once he realized where they were. “Everyone, Eds and I should take a detour real quick. You all go on ahead.”

They all stopped and looked at him. “Uh… okay. Be careful.” Bill insisted. Richie nodded as Eddie ducked away from the group to follow him. Soon as they were out of earshot, Eddie tugged on Richie’s sleeve insistently.

“Where are we going, Rich? Is this about what happened, uh, what you said, or…”

Richie sighed. “Don’t strain yourself. We’re going to the kissing bridge.” His heart sank when he heard Eddie’s sneakers stop moving.

“Why?”

“Not for whatever you’re thinking, I promise.”

Eddie relaxed, but didn’t stop trying to make eye contact with Richie, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Then what _is_ it for? What’s going on?” He kept walking when he realized that Richie wasn’t stopping, and that he refused to make eye contact. Regardless of his questions, Eddie followed Richie in silence the rest of the way to the bridge. When they finally got there after what felt like an eternity to the both of them, Richie stopped at a specific spot along the side. His heart was racing insanely fast in his chest, faster than it probably ever had.

“Are you finally gonna tell me what we’re doing here, dipshit?” Eddie huffed in annoyance, kicking the rocks at his feet.

Richie had his back to the bridge covering the carving he knew was engraved in the wood. “Yeah. Just… promise you won’t hate me.” He moved to the side. “I already told you I loved you. I was in love with you for a long time when we were kids. I… carved your name in the stupid bridge in this stupid town. And I re-carved it when you died.” He gestured to the R+E engraved in the side of the bridge, which Eddie seemed to just notice, his eyes widening. “Don’t say anything, please. Look Eddie, I spent so damn long dreaming of confessing to you, and I don’t care if you feel the same way. I want to do it _my_ way, because I don’t know if you’re gonna be there when I wake up tomorrow, and I don’t want to restart again without telling you how I feel for real.” By the end of his rant, Richie could feel himself shaking and holding back tears that he wasn’t strong enough to contain. “I’m sorry I’m in love with you. I didn’t ever plan on telling you, but the last time I confessed you died and you never got to answer me. Now that you’re safe, I know I’m a dick for telling you all this, but I can’t even think about closing my eyes again until you say something back.”

Like the first time, Eddie was stunned into silence. He was gaping at Richie like he was an alien—or rather, more like he was something vulgar on television. Richie knew from experience how Eddie looked at aliens, and it wasn’t just plain surprise. Before speaking, Eddie glanced back at the carving on the bridge. Slowly he sat down on the side of it and Richie mirrored his action; they sat down next to their own initials with the distance of the carving between them. Eddie put his head in his hands.

“Don’t say you’re fucking sorry.” He choked out.

“...What?”

“Don’t apologize!” Eddie snapped, jerking his head up and staring straight ahead at the other side of the bridge. He was purposefully keeping Richie in his peripheral, but not enough to see the hurt on his face. “You can’t just say you’re sorry after something like that! I spent all fucking night—the past _two days_ —thinking about you being in love with me. I couldn’t get all that shit you said out of my head, I was fucking _annoyed_ . I couldn’t sleep, I just, all I could do was _think_. About our childhoods, and you, and my mom and my wife, and it’s—how it’s all bullshit!”

“Eddie—”

“I’m not done!” Eddie said loudly, Richie shrinking into himself and shutting up so he could continue. “No, because I was sure that after everything we’d been through, I was _sure_ that we were just friends! I thought about all my memories and was like, _‘Yeah, liking Richie more than girls is normal, he’s my friend! Beverly just isn’t my type! I guess my wife isn’t, either!_ ’ But I’ve never found a girl that’s my fucking type, and I always liked that stupid comedian on TV too much! I thought _‘he’s fucking funnier than that, I know it,_ ’ when I had no way of knowing! I could _never_ stop thinking about you!” Eddie was crying. Unlike Richie, it didn’t stop him from talking. He hugged his knees tightly against his chest. “I’m gay, Richie. I think I knew it when we were kids. I think _everyone_ knew it except me. Jesus Christ, why didn’t I fucking know?! I’m forty, I have a wife, and I wasted all this time!”

When Richie was sure Eddie was done talking, he was still too confused to think of what to say. He did what he had always done the best, and let his mouth do the work. “You know… I felt the same way when I figured it out.” Eddie glanced over at him and Richie felt his heart break at the sight of tears streaming down his friend’s face. “It wasn’t until after you… died. The first time. That was when I knew for sure. But I was so mad, because you were always _there_. I just forgot. And I wasted all this time not knowing, and now I have all the time in the world, and I’m still scared to say it out loud.” He laughed bitterly when he was done.

They sat silently, staring at each other, doing nothing but crying.

“Thanks Richie.” Eddie mumbled, closing his eyes. “You always know what to say… even if it’s stupid.”

Richie laughed again, too, finally allowing himself to blink. When his eyes opened, he was so relieved to still see that Eddie was still sitting there that he could’ve thrown up. “Thanks Eds. I think.” He reached over and ruffled Eddie’s hair, but never took his hand away. He left it on his friend’s head, moving his fingers through his dark hair silently, and both of them felt comforted by the movement. They sat like that for probably not longer than two minutes when Eddie groaned. “What’s the matter, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Bill is calling me,” he mumbled through a yawn, his face illuminated by the light of his phone screen. “When the fuck did he get my number… shit. We should go back before we fall asleep here.” Much to Richie’s disappointment, Eddie stood up, and his hand fell out of his hair and onto the ground. Richie himself started to follow, but Eddie stopped him. “Hold it.”

Richie looked up to see that Eddie’s back was to him, his phone camera open. “What?”

“I’m taking a picture. Duh. Lean over, I want to get your fuckin’ art project in the shot.” He laughed.

“Hey! It meant a lot to me!” The other man groaned in protest, still obeying his friend and tilting his head to the other side so the carving was more clearly in frame. “I cried over this, I’ll have you know. Several times.”

“I know. That’s why I want to be able to look at it when we get the hell out of here.”

That was all he had to say to make Richie grin as he snapped the photo. When it was done, Eddie helped his friend off the ground, who immediately stole Eddie’s phone as they started walking back to the hotel. Before he could get a good look at the picture, Bill called again. Richie clicked the answer button without a second thought, putting Bill on speaker.

“This is the dancing clown speaking,” Richie said in his own voice. “What’s up Bill?”

“Beep beep,” Bill groaned at the same time Eddie elbowed Richie. “I just wanted to make sure you guys didn’t fucking die. Where’s Eddie?”

“Right beside me, no worries. He fucking hit me when I answered the phone, what a prick.”

They could practically hear Bill’s eyes roll on the other end of the line. “Great. Just get over here before it’s too late, we don’t want to have to look for your bodies in the morning.”

“You won’t, Bill. See you there.”

When Riche’s head hit the pillow in the hotel, he was surprised at how quickly he felt himself falling asleep. “G’night, Stanley,” He mumbled as his roommate reached over to turn off the lights.

“Yeah. Night Richie. And… Thanks for saving everyone. I really hope we wake up here tomorrow.”

Richie rolled onto his other side so he and Stan were facing each other in the dark, even though Richie couldn’t see him all too well.

“Hey. We will, okay? This is all over.”

Stan sighed. “I hope you’re right…”

“I have to be.” And with that, both the boys drifted off to sleep.

***

Richie woke up groggily, his head still buzzing with the events of the past few days enough to give him a headache. Or maybe that was from grinding his teeth...

...No. Wait. Not _that_ kind of buzz.

His eyes shot open and he whipped his head up just in time to hear loud banging on the door of his changing room.

“You’re on in five minutes, sir. Are you okay?” Lorraine’s voice came from the other side of the door at the same time Richie’s phone started ringing.

“NO!” He shouted, standing up suddenly and kicking his chair over with as much force as he could muster. Lori yelped as it slammed into the door, and Richie fell backwards into his dressing table, his head spinning from his hangover and tears blurring his vision. “THIS ISN’T HAPPENING! THIS ISN’T _FUCKING_ REAL!”

“...I’m going to tell them you’ll be a while!”

Lori scampered off and Richie fumbled around blindly for his phone, hitting the answer button and turning on the speakerphone all while holding his head up in his free hand. He could practically feel his headache pulsing under his fingertips.

“If this isn’t Stanley Uris, I don’t wanna _fucking_ hear it.”

“It’s me,” Stan responded, sounding equally as distressed. “What the fuck happened?! What… we did everything right! We killed IT, we saved them all! What the fuck?!”

“I don’t know! I—shit, everything was perfect! It was all fine!” Richie yelled one frustration as new tears threatened to spill. “Holy shit… Stan, I can’t _do_ this anymore! If we have to go back to that town one more time, I’m gonna…” Well, he knew killing himself wouldn’t work. It wasn’t like he could just not go back, either. The pull in his chest was too strong to resist—not to mention it could endanger his friends. No matter how many times he woke back up in that changing room, Richie knew it wouldn’t matter. Because every single time without fail, he’d go back. “...I’m in hell. That must be it.”

“Richie…”

“Sorry. _We’re_ in hell.”

“Richie! Knock it off! This is frustrating, it feels terrible, but no matter how many times we wake up today, we both know we don’t have a choice. We _have_ to go.”

The comedian groaned. “Dammit. I know you’re right, but I hate you. How much time until Mike calls me?”

“I think a minute? From what you’ve told me, right after the venue owner drags you out of your room.”

“Well, that hasn’t happened properly in a few loops… and my assistant bought me some time. I sh—” He was cut off by his phone ringing, startling him a bit. “Fuck, speak of the devil. I’ll call you back, Stan. We should leave early and meet up outside town. We have a fuckin’ _lot_ to talk about.”

“Sounds good to me. See you soon, Rich.”

Richie sighed. “Likewise.” He then hung up, answering the incoming call too quickly to realize it wasn’t coming from Maine. He answered in a snappy monotone voice. “Richie Tozier here, and I’m hungover, so cut the bullshit Mike.”

The man on the other end of the phone laughed, and Richie’s eyes widened, his hostility draining. “Sorry, it’s not Mike this time. I actually told him I’d take care of telling you myself and cut out the middleman… so, I guess this time loop shit is all real after all. Not that I didn’t believe you.”

A huge smile spread across Richie’s face and he damn near started crying all over again. “Oh my god, you fucking remember! Ben, you’re an angel!”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that f—”

“Shit! No, seriously, I’ve been going _insane!_ I’m sorry you got dragged into this, but… I’m glad you’re here! That… that means there _is_ a way to change how the loop works! Fucking hell, maybe there’s a way out!”

He couldn’t see it, but Ben was smiling too. “Happy I could help! Even, uh, even if it’s terrifying. Seriously, I have no idea how you did this so many times… the thought of going back is making me sick. And after everything that happened… the rest of us hadn’t even seen the worst of it.”

A lurching feeling in Richie’s stomach caused him to groan. “Yeah, I know what you mean about being sick... I thought it would be a good idea to get blackout drunk before my show, and I pay the price every three days. It’s a nightmare. If this whole loop was just to dissuade me from drinking alcohol, mission accomplished. I will never drink again.” When that prompted laughter from Ben, Richie was satisfied. The sickness subsided a bit. “Hey, Stan and I are gonna meet up early outside of Derry to… talk about shit. You down?” As soon as he was finished talking, a loud bang startled him back to reality. He jumped and screamed a bit, barely hearing Ben on the other end asking if he was okay. “Yeah, uh, just text me. I have a show to ditch.”

As the knocks on the door grew more frequent and Richie rose to answer them, he just had to pray that this wasn’t the timeline he’d be stuck in permanently. If it was, he owed Lori _big_ time.


	7. richie’s pranks do not age well

Richie felt like the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders at the sight of Ben and Stan chatting away happily in an airport cafe. He stopped at the entrance, watching them for a few seconds through his tear-fogged glasses, a smile spreading.

_ ‘If this is what it’s like when we win for good… then it’s worth it _ .’

“Hey, Trashmouth!” He looked up when Stan called to him, and his feet started moving towards the table without his permission. Both of the men stood up, and without even thinking about it, Richie wrapped his arms around them and pulled them into a hug. He squeezed them in his arms with as much strength as he could muster (which wasn’t a lot, but Ben made up for that where the other men lacked) and by the time they separated, his glasses were fogged all over again. The other two weren’t nearly as choked up as him—Ben was already pulling up a chair for Richie, and Stan just looked plain tired as he obsessively clicked the pen in his hand. “So… let’s address the elephant in the room.”

“Hey, just because Ben is huge doesn’t mean he’s an elephant.”

“Shut up,” Stan rolled his eyes. “This is important! Ben being here means it’s not just us… but, why Ben? If we can figure out why Ben is here, that means we might be able to figure out how to break the loop!”

Richie nodded. “What if—hear me out—it’s because we kissed? What if whoever one of us kisses becomes a part of the loop? I mean… he’s the  _ only _ one I kissed. That makes sense, right?”

“Uh… maybe? Does that apply to me too, since we were both in the loop at the same time? That’s so random though. Why would kissing be what breaks the loop?”

Ben shrugged. “Why would it wake people up from the deadlights? I dunno, maybe whatever it is works the same way. What if we’re all in the deadlights, and if you or Richie kisses all of us, we wake up for good?”

The table jostled as Stanley slumped his head against it, groaning. “This is so stupid. What the fuck are the rules of this thing?! I can’t believe that the alien clown that terrorized our childhoods is taking the  _ back burner _ as far as weird stuff goes…”

“Aliens are actually pretty probable! I mean, I know we have proof that one exists, but even before we did…” When Ben realized Richie was giving him a look, he stopped talking. Better not to piss off Stan while he was already frustrated. “Anyway—so, do we try the kissing thing? Or… like, do we just try killing IT again?”

After picking his head up off the table and looking between the two other men, Stan stood up. “Yeah, you two think about that. I’m going to get us coffees. Richie’s too hungover to take this seriously, I’m too nervous, and… yeah, you’re actually doing great, Ben.” He gave Ben a halfhearted thumbs-up before walking over to the counter. As soon as Stan was gone, the architect turned to Richie, who immediately slumped in his seat. The energy was only weird between them for a split second before the overwhelming feeling of being dragged back to Derry trumped it. Richie pulled his glasses off his face and wiped them furiously on his jacket.

“Hey… this plan is probably uncomfortable, but it’s all we really have. I’m sorry I—”

“I’m gay.” Richie admitted, shutting Ben up pretty effectively. “I’m—I was gonna say it with Stan here, but he kinda knows already… um, sorry for making it awkward. I just wanted to tell you, because I trust you, and we’re friends, and I’m sick of dying immediately after I come out, so now that you’ll remember it, I can tell you.” He let out a breath he’d been holding ever since Stan stood up, and a smile replaced it. “There! There.”

Ben didn’t know what to say to that at first. “Oh! Yeah, that makes sense. Eddie, right?”

Richie’s jaw dropped a bit. “How… what?!  _ You _ knew?”

“I… kinda? Sorry, I just always thought you guys had a different relationship from the rest of us when we were kids. And don’t worry, I don’t think the others did… I may or may not have asked Bev and Bill about it. They had no idea what I was talking about.” He admitted. “But all the play fighting, teasing and hanging back kinda tipped me off.”

Placing his glasses delicately back on his face as he processed that, Richie hummed in acknowledgment. “So you didn’t, like… have a problem with kissing me? Even though you knew?”

Ben laughed. “What?! No! You could’ve died! I don’t think you like me, but it wouldn’t bother me if you do. I’m straight, and you’re responsible. Mostly. Either way—it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t just  _ let _ you die, Richie.” Little to Ben’s knowledge, Richie was so happy about Ben’s acceptance that he actually  _ could’ve _ kissed him. He thought it might be a funny bit, but poorly timed, considering the deal of trauma they were all going through and Stan making his way back to the table. Ben noticed that, and decided to get in a last word before the other man was in earshot. “Thank you for telling me, Richie. I appreciate it. I’m proud of you.”

He smiled gratefully at Ben as Stan set down a drink tray on the table, raising an eyebrow at them. “What the fuck happened between you two while I was gone?” He pulled his chair out to sit down.

“I told Ben that I’m gay. Real emotional stuff.”

Stan nodded. “Yeah. Good for you, Richie.”

Richie shrugged. “Eh, he already knew. It was for character growth or something. Anyway, how do we feel about kissing all of our friends?”

“...Is that seriously our only plan? Jesus Christ.”

“It is, Stanley, so suck it up and pucker up.”

“We don’t even know if it’s linked to me,” Stan acknowledged. “Ben kissed  _ you _ . We don’t know why it started with the two of us at all, or if there’s any significance with kissing. I know you and I certainly didn’t kiss.”

Ben leaned his head in his palm, taking a long sip of his coffee. “No matter what, we have to explain everything to the others right away. We… should we even let them go in the restaurant? Isn’t that dangerous?”

The others both shook their heads. “Nobody ever gets hurt in the restaurant,” Richie confirmed. “It’s as good a meeting place as any. As long as we’re in Derry, IT can terrorize us. Besides, it’s a lot easier to let Mike ease everyone back into the murder clown thing before dropping the time travel bomb on them.” Richie usually let Mike remind everyone in the loops. He counted it as payback for Mike lying to them. “So then… that’s the plan. Seriously. God, alright. Let’s fucking go to Derry.”

***

Richie, Ben and Stan couldn’t keep their eyes off the fortune cookies all night—with the exception of Ben and Richie glancing up when Beverly or Eddie respectively laughed, because the backflips that their hearts were doing overpowered existential clown dread. It was their leader who noticed the staring first, and he tapped Stan’s shoulder, earning a yelp from the man. He whipped his head around so he was facing Bill. “Yeah Bill?”

“You’re staring at those cookies like they hurt you.” He pointed out. “Is something up?”

The other man shook his head nervously, and extended a shaky hand to grab one. “No… nothing is wrong.” He opened the wrapper with his teeth and cracked open the cookie, shaking at the thought of what might be on the paper. Bill was peering over, which didn’t help things either. Bill frowned and Stan paled as he read the fortune. Ben and Richie were staring at him like he was on fire. “...It says Ben,” Stan exclaimed rather loudly. Everyone’s attention was on him now. “My fortune says Ben.”

When Richie and Ben both dove to get more cookies, Beverly laughed humorlessly. “What? ...Are you serious?” She looked between the others ripping open cookies and her expression fell. “Oh god, already.” She picked one up as well. The group tore them all open until they had the words, putting them down on the table around the paper that just said “BEN,” all while Stan’s shaking got worse. What started in his hand spread to the rest of him, and an onlooker might’ve just thought he was freezing. When all the fortunes seemed to be in place, the losers crowded around him, which wasn’t helping his nerves.

“ _ LOOKS LIKE BEN IS IN THE LOOP _ .”

Richie slammed his fist on the table while everyone else freaked out respectively.

“What does that mean?!” Beverly exclaimed, putting a hand on Stan’s shoulder, which he quickly batted off.

Ben frowned. “Guys, back off, you’re crowding Stan…”

As soon as Richie heard that, He cleared his head, trying to move everyone away from Stan as well. The party instantly calmed once they realized that Stan was  _ not _ okay. Richie pulled up a chair and sat next to him, the whole group silent as they watched. “Stanley, you’re okay dude. Hey, we already know everything will be fine. Just because the clown asshole knows doesn’t mean it’s any less of an advantage. We’ve got this, alright? One day we’re gonna be able to make it home for real. You’ll get ass with your wife, I’ll write some gay comedy, maybe together we’ll go to Africa and build poor kids houses. Who knows? Possibilities are endless. But my point is, everything will be  _ fine _ .” Him talking seemed to calm down Stan immensely, but he didn’t waste a beat before looking up at everyone else. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

It did not take much convincing. Everyone poured out of the restaurant with only one new trauma under their belts, and naturally, Bill was all over the time-travelers (?) the moment Stan calmed down. “You definitely know what’s going on, so tell us. What was that about? How did you all know something was wrong with th-th-the fortune cookies?” Everyone’s attention was on them.

“Well Bill,” Richie started. “Stanley and I have lived through these next few days—what, six times now? Jesus, I’m losing count. Anyway, we’ve been calling it a time-loop. In the last time loop, Ben and I had a cute little moment, and when we woke up earlier today, Ben remembered everything just like Stan and I do. Are you all caught up?”

The glare Bill was throwing his way was livid, but Stan quickly stood up for him, much to everyone’s surprise. “He’s telling the truth. The good news is, we always manage to kill IT. Bad news is that we don’t actually know how to stop the loop. The last time, everything was perfect. We all lived, everything sorted itself out, and we were sure we’d wake up where we fell asleep. But I woke up next to my wife, Richie woke up at a gig, and Ben woke up in his apartment. So I know it’s hard to believe, but we are not in the fucking mood to deal with your petty shit. If you can believe in the alien clown, you can believe us.”

Bill opened his mouth to say something else, but Mike cut him off. “Alien? How do you figure?” They had actually forgotten that Mike  _ knew _ what it was. The three of them—Stan, Ben and Richie—glared at Mike when he prompted that.

“About that. Don’t even  _ try _ your ritual bullshit. It never works, and it got Eddie killed at least three times.”

The man in question paled, looking between Mike and Richie in shock. “What?! I died?”

“Yeah. Bill, Ben, Mike and Bev are the only ones who never died. They live no matter what, it’s kinda unfair.”

Obviously everyone was losing their minds at the mere concept of the time loop. However, Richie couldn’t help but notice in the background something familiar. It was a family, but noticeably, the child was the same one that freaked him out during the first loop. Richie didn’t remember seeing him in any of the other loops, but that was probably a given just based on the fact that changing anything meant changing everything. The timing was always off. When he’d been staring for a while, the boy turned his head towards the large group of arguing adults, his gaze eventually finding and staying on Richie. His eyes widened, and he tugged on his mom’s shirt, who leaned down so he could tell her something. There was a moment that they both looked at him, until she finally stood straight again, tugging him forward and unlocking their car.

“Well, Richie?”

His attention snapped back to the others, who were all looking at him in various stages of embarrassment. It seemed to have been Eddie that had spoken. “Um… I wasn’t listening. What’s up, Eds? Wanna hear the story of how I popped the question to your mom?”

The joke was  _ not _ well received. Everyone was silent. “No, fuck off. Ben told us that your plan is to kiss everyone to break the loop.”

_ ‘FUCK, I FORGOT ABOUT THAT _ .’ “Uhh, yeah, of course. Who’s first? Step right up.” Bev stepped forward first, much to Richie’s relief, and she offered him a hand to get off the curb. He barely finished dusting gravel off the ass of his pants before leaning forward and pecking Beverly, sending a wink her way immediately after. “Don’t fall in love with me or anything. I know I’m irresistible.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Kissing Beverly, of course, was the easiest. It was when Mike stepped up next that Richie realized he’d eventually get to Eddie. He and Eddie hadn’t kissed at  _ all _ . Even after proclaiming their eternal love to one another, or whatever. Richie just felt like this was the most underwhelming way it could’ve happened. Anyway; despite Mike’s hotness, Richie was too mad at him for being a dick to really appreciate the kiss at all. He pecked him and moved on to Bill, who seemed amused if anything by the entire situation.

“If this is a prank, it’s your weirdest one yet. Weirder than the werewolf in the school basement.” Bill informed him.

Richie laughed. “Well, that’s pretty hard to top. I promise you’re not being punked.” He held his pinkie out, and Bill hooked his pinkie around it, solidifying Richie’s promise. He smiled. “Gimme some sugar, big Bill!” He swooped Bill for a more dramatic kiss, and he could hear Stan snort with laughter behind him. Ben clapped politely at the theatrics. The kiss was as quick as the last two, and then Richie realized that Eddie was next.

The last man standing looked equally as uncomfortable as Richie felt. The two locked eyes, and it was plainly obvious that their kiss would be the hardest. Richie even felt guilty; he had the solidarity of knowing that Eddie  _ actually _ had feelings for him. Best Eddie knew, there was nothing in this for Richie. He decided it would be best to just go forward with it. He didn’t want to scare Eddie into thinking he hesitated out of any reason other than downright love. The two stepped closer, and Eddie looked up to lock eyes with Richie. “You know, your m—”

Eddie grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him down into a kiss—a  _ real _ kiss—which shut Richie up faster than you could say ‘beep beep.’ His eyes were still wide open with shock, and they weren’t together long enough for him to close them. Just as soon as the kiss began, it was over, and Richie and Eddie parted in a dazed, flustered mess. Richie was just conscious enough to wolf-whistle suggestively, not even registering the elbow to the ribs that Eddie delivered after that. It didn’t matter; he had  _ just been kissed by Eddie _ . Eddie freakin’ Kaspbrak  _ kissed him _ . Absolutely nothing could contain the huge smile on his face.

“Jesus, don’t look so creepy about it,” Eddie whined. “I just wanted to get it over with.”

Richie ignored him, shaking off the high feeling, and pointed an accusing finger at Stan. “Hey! Why didn’t you have to kiss anybody?!”

A small smile spread across his face as Stanley shrugged. “You seemed to be handling it. Besides, I have a wife. You don’t.”

“Hey! It’s not cheating if it’s to save our lives, asshole!”

Their playful bickering didn’t cease until they all got back to the hotel. Richie made a beeline for his room, immediately picking the bed furthest from the door in case anything evil came through. Richie heard the door open behind him as he started unpacking. “Hey, I know you took this bed the last few times, but I think I earned the right to pick which fucking bed I want.”

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice said, scaring the shit out of Richie as he turned around. “I let Stan have my room. God, relax, you’re looking at me like I’m a ghost.”

Bad metaphor. The other man actually flinched at his choice of words. “Well, I saw you die, Eds. Over and over. We were even attacked in this room before.”

He didn’t jump at the opportunity to correct Richie for using his nickname. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m still not used to that…” Eddie sat down on the bed closest to the door facing Richie. “Hey man, I uh, I appreciate you helping us all. It must’ve been hell to go through all that so many times.”

“Yes, watching the man I’ve been in love with for thirty years die over and over did take a toll on me, gotta admit.” Was that an insensitive way to tell him? Probably. It was certainly less romantic than last time. But Richie didn’t  _ care _ . He just wanted Eddie to know. And he certainly did—his eyes widened, jaw dropped, the whole shebang. Looked like he had just gotten proposed to.

“Richie, if this is a joke—”

“It isn’t funny, blah blah, that hurts every time you say it. I’m in love with you for real. In the last time loop, I confessed my love for you in front of a carving of our initials on the kissing bridge I made when we were kids. It was all romantic and junk, we cried a lot, and we didn’t actually kiss in any of the loops until a few hours ago. Just thought I’d tell you—full disclosure—that I’m super in love with you and all that jazz. That didn’t mean nothing to me.”

Obviously from the way Eddie was gaping at Richie, he was surprised by the genuine confession. It took him a while to respond, and when he did, it was pretty close to what Richie was expecting. “Uh… wh… well what did I say?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Cornered! Eddie sighed and furrowed his eyebrows. “Richie… I-I don’t know, okay?! I mean… I… you’re different. I have a wife, and… fuck.” He groaned. “Shit. Sorry, I’m having a hard time saying what I mean. It’s a lot.”

Richie sighed. “It’s okay. Trust me, I already got the long version.”

He swallowed. “I don’t… know how I feel. About this. This is so sudden, I-I—oh god—” It was about that point that, as much as Richie wanted it to be over with, he realized he’d told Eddie too soon. Too much at once. He felt even guiltier when Eddie rustled his pockets; the telltale sign that he was searching for his inhaler. “Look, I—”

“Eddie,” Setting down the clothes he was holding, Richie moved to the other bed and sat down next to his friend. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that yet. You have a lot on your plate, little man, and I don’t… expect an answer from you right away. I’m not gonna put the pressure on you. Okay?”

Eddie nodded in response. “I don’t know what I would say to that. I really don’t. I don’t even remember everything yet, I-I’m sorry, Richie.”

“Don’t be. Don’t even worry about it.” He stood up to give Eddie some space, moving back to his own bed to finish unpacking. That was the end of it—other than exchanging goodnights, nothing else between the two of them. The one thing Richie hated more than a bad answer was no answer at all, and he was angry at himself for being too quick to spring everything on Eddie. Everything else about that night was suspiciously normal. No Pennywise attacks, Richie still couldn’t sleep, and Eddie still snored in his sleep after twenty seven years, which Richie still found kinda adorable.

Richie couldn’t help but be anxious about whether the loop was really broken yet. He wouldn’t even know for a few days yet, which made it infinitely worse. However, even the second day already started off differently. They gathered in the lobby downstairs instead of the treehouse, and for once, it was Richie, Stan and Ben who were in charge, not Mike. Everyone sat in various places around the bar and brainstormed their next move.

“Today we’re supposed to get our memories back and fight off Bowers. The fight happens after all that, okay? I think we should split off into three groups with Richie, Ben and I in each one so that we know  _ exactly _ what happened in case the kiss thing didn’t work. That sound good?” Everyone acknowledged their agreement. “Great. I’ll go with Bill and Mike, Richie you take Eddie, Ben stay with Bev. Everyone clear?”

Everyone was clear. The groups split off in their separate ways, all going to kill some time while they tried to get their memory back. It seemed like Stan’s group was going by their old houses, Ben and Bev went to visit her dad, and Richie and Eddie went to pick up Eddie’s prescription. As they walked up to the counter and waited for the medicine, Richie could tell his partner was distracted. He nudged him, not even earning acknowledgment. “Psst. Earth to Eds?”

Eddie finally looked up at him and frowned. “It’s Eddie. Just… I had a memory. About being here when I was a kid.” Richie looked over at where he had been staring while he grabbed his inhaler. It was just a door. “IT was down there. And so was my mom, and I-I couldn’t… I couldn’t save her. It wasn’t  _ really _ her, but…” He swallowed, and Richie put a hand on his shoulder. “We should go down there.”

Richie Immediately took his hand off Eddie’s shoulder. “What?! That sounds like a bad idea. Like something we  _ shouldn’t _ do, under any circumstances. Why?!”

He shrugged. “I just have a feeling.”

Now, Richie knew what that feeling was. It was the pull—the draw that IT always had to lure them into IT’s traps. But he knew he couldn’t talk Eddie out of it. Better to follow than to let him go by himself, right? But knowing that whatever Eddie saw down there led to him finding out how to kill it… it put Richie at ease. They  _ would _ make it out of there. He reminded himself that as they walked down the stairs and then into the underwhelming storage room. “Wow. This place is… empty.” Eddie lifted back the curtain to reveal more nothing, and Richie let out a sigh of relief. “See Eddie? Now, can we go? This is  _ bad _ . No bueno. We can actually get  _ arrested _ for trespassing, so—”

He stopped talking suddenly, when he heard movement behind him. Richie’s silence got Eddie’s attention faster than his talking did. “Richie? Are you…” when he turned around, he looked pale as a sheet.

That’s when Richie knew he was fucked.

A loud dog-like roar sounded from right behind Richie’s head, and he could feel the breath of the creature as he screamed and stumbled forward. He slammed into Eddie, who was rapidly backing up, and Richie turned around to see, to his horror, a  _ giant fucking werewolf _ standing in the middle of the basement. Somehow, Richie got the feeling that this was  _ not _ the creature Eddie faced here before.

“Silver, Eddie, do you see anything silver?!”

“Does it look like I’m a fucking metal detector, Richie?! How the  _ fuck _ am I supposed to know?!”

“I don’t know!”

As it clambered towards them, ripping the curtain off its track, Richie realized  _ just _ how fucked they were. Cornered, in a basement, with no weapon. The werewolf itself was large enough to block their exit. When it took another step forward, Eddie dashed to the right, shoving Richie the opposite direction. Of  _ course _ , the wolf chose to chase him.

“Back off, Fido! I’m not scared of you asshole!” Richie spat, trying his hardest to keep the wolf’s attention on him. Everything after that felt like it happened in slow motion; like everything was moving through molasses and Richie was powerless to stop it. The wolf dove at him, it’s jaw unhinged wide enough to snap his head off easily. And that  _ seemed _ to be it’s goal. Richie dove out of the way, as quickly as possible, but not fast enough. With the worst pain Richie’s ever experienced sending all sorts of red flags to his brain, Richie slammed onto the floor and crawled backwards before he even registered where the pain was coming from.

The werewolf had bitten his right arm clean off. The sigh of it would’ve been enough to make Richie pass out then and there if not for his thoughts going to different places. “Is that all you’ve got?!” The wolf dove at him again. That time, Richie had nowhere to go. He was backed into a corner, bleeding out. It looked like a logical end.  _ ‘Man. We chose the wrong loop to break out of it. _ ’ He slammed his eyes shut and braced for impact.

“THWACK” is not the sound he was expecting to hear.  _ ‘Wow. I thought a wolf biting my head off would sound crunchier. _ ’

“Richie!”

He opened his eyes, surprised to see Eddie’s ass in his face. Well, kinda—he was standing a few feet in front of Richie, his back turned, holding the curtain rod the wolf destroyed. Where it had sliced through, the rod was sharpened to a point. Richie sighed in relief. “I’m alive, Eddie…” He managed to garble, his head lulling to the side. That seemed to be all the other man needed to hear. Eddie and the werewolf lunged at each other in the same moment; and to Richie, it looked like the wolf was the clear winner. But in a moment of absolute genius (or instinct, probably instinct), Eddie drove the rod into the wolf’s eye.

It let out a load pained roar, ripping its head away from Eddie and saving his life by a fraction of a second. The man couldn’t peel his eyes off the creature as it stumbled back, knocking into a cart and sending it’s contents sprawling. The wolf looked up, whipping its head back and forth to try and dislodge the rod with no success. As soon as it realized that the struggling was going nowhere, it stared right at Eddie with its good eye, as if judging the situation.

And in a moment, it was gone. The pipe disappeared along with the werewolf, leaving Richie and Eddie alone in the wrecked basement. Eddie spun around quickly and slid over to where Richie was, his eyes wide in alarm. From where he was positioned, Richie could see that there was a cut on Eddie’s neck where the wolf’s teeth had grazed him.  _ That _ was how close they had both been to death. “Richie, holy shit, I-I don’t know what to do, oh my  _ god— _ ”

“A  _ hospital _ , Eddie. Get me to a fucking hospital.”

Eddie nodded, his limbs moving wildly as he scrambled to do something about their situation. “Right. Right! Come on, I’ll—we’ll—I’m gonna help you off the ground!” He tried quickly to pull Richie up, trying to support his body weight, but it didn’t last for long. The two managed to shuffle halfway to the stairs before Richie felt his consciousness fully slip from his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the length of this chapter. i didn’t want it to leave off after nothing new happened


	8. the lasting impact of elementary tee ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna make this one longer but i already tortured you with that last time so you deserve a break— enjoy lol

When Richie woke up, he wasn’t in the hospital. He was standing, for one—and he was in the middle of the street. Just like when he was in the deadlights.

“No,” he said, his terror only amplifying when he realized that the voice wasn’t his, either. At least it hadn’t been for a long time. His friends around him were young too; all stoic. That was different. Bill had been fighting with him before. He and Stan were the only others that moved, Richie assumed because Stanley was dead. That time Stanley was stock still, watching Bill stare down Richie. “I’m… oh, shit, am I dead?! No, no no no—HEY! COME OUT! I know you’re doing this! I’m—I’m not dead, I can’t be! That would restart the loop!”

There was no response. He groaned, frustrated, and pulled back his arm, remembering the other way out of the visions. Richie slammed his fist hard into young Bill Denbrough’s face, and just like he expected, it triggered the next memory. The force of his punch sent him tumbling forward as he wondered how he had gotten in the deadlights if he’d passed out. By the time the scene with Connor Bowers was surfacing, Richie still hadn’t completely wrapped his head around it, but the answer was officially dawning on him. This was where he and Stan first connected through the loops.

He was dead.

Thankfully, Connor didn’t say anything as Richie processed this. Why wasn’t he waking up at the beginning of the next loop? Had he actually broken the loop in the one that would kill him? _‘Jeez, that’s shitty timing._ ’ He kissed the fake Connor, allowing the scene to change one last time from what he remembered. After Stan’s bar mitzvah, sitting on the steps outside the temple, with Richie comforting his friend. That scene was the one he minded the least; one he would be okay staying in for eternity. So unlike the others, Richie turned to Stan, and just stared for a minute. His friend was stoic unlike the previous times, which he guessed was a good thing, since it meant Stan was alive and well. The scraggly other man, trapped in his teenage body, sighed and leaned back on the step.

“...I’m glad you’re not here,” He practically whispered. “You deserve to see your wife again. You had, like, a whole thing going. I miss you, but it actually feels kinda good to be alone with a quiet version of you.” Richie’s head lulled to the side so he was facing the frozen Stan. “I don’t think I could’ve done this without you, you know. I can’t remember if I told you that. Not just the loop, either. If it wasn’t for you, I never would have made it out of this shithole town. I guess I didn’t, in the long run. But you deserve more credit for that. You weren’t just the shower cap kid. You’re my best friend. Still. I don’t think I’ve ever been as close to anyone.” He laughed dryly, but Richie could feel himself actually getting choked up. As the seconds ticked by he selfishly wished the real Stan was with him. And then, to his horror, the scene shifted again. “No—I’m not ready! Please!”

He tried to grab Stan, but his hand passed right through his friend. As Richie shot up into a standing position, the world around him shifted to the school. He was on the playground, a bit older than last time, probably in his senior year. The schoolyard was completely empty, and he thought hard for a while about what memories he’d ever had on the playground that weren’t with Connor late at night. The sun was shining on him then, and he knew for sure it wasn’t a Connor-related memory—they could never be seen together.

“Richie! Come push me!”

Richie jumped in surprise, whipping his head towards the sound of the voice. When he locked eyes with the person who’d spoken, he felt a wave of emotions crash down on him all at once. He stepped forward subconsciously, looking at the boy like he couldn’t believe it. Despite not seeing the face in so long, he could immediately recognize who it was. How could he ever forget?

“...Georgie?”

The little boy grinned at him, kicking his feet in anticipation. “C’mon, what are you waiting for? I wanna touch the sky!” Richie’s lips pursed, and he felt the red-hot stinging feeling of tears pricking at his eyes. Georgie noticed this, and immediately his smile fell too. “Richie? What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“No, I am, George…” His younger voice left his mouth, which at the moment he was grateful for. “It’s just been a long time, that’s all. I missed you.” Was this his heaven? He was supposed to spend the rest of eternity keeping Georgie company? Richie was never a huge fan of kids, but Bill’s little brother wasn’t just any kid. Richie remembered joking around with Georgie while Bill tried to shoo him out of his room, convincing Bill to let Georgie play with them for the afternoon, babysitting him when the Denbroughs needed a break from their youngest. He was the closest thing to a little brother Richie ever had. The memory of the playground came back to him; of pushing Georgie on the swings while Bill and Stan played tee ball. “It’s just been such a long time.”

Georgie nodded, still smiling dopily and kicking his legs so the swing was moving at a relaxing pace. “I know! I miss everybody a whole lot. I’ve been playing on the swings for a long time, but I can’t get high enough without you pushing me.” He dragged his shoes in the mulch, and looked up at Richie expectantly. The older boy took off his glasses to rub the tears out of his eyes, and to his surprise, it did nothing to affect his vision. He stuffed them into his pocket and stepped behind Georgie, much to the kid’s delight. “Push me super high! I wanna go to space!”

“I can’t push too fast, you’ll fall off,” Richie snickered, starting off with a gentle push to get the swing’s momentum going. “How… uh, how’s heaven been suiting you?”

Georgie shushed him. “Who cares? You’re here now! I wanna go higher!”

He couldn’t argue with that. He pushed the swing harder and higher, and each time the swing reached the peak of its arch, the kid would let out a scream of delight and Richie would have to back up further to keep from getting hit in the face. Both of them had mile-wide smiles plastered across their faces, and for what could’ve been minutes or years, everything else melted away. Richie wasn’t worried about the loop or waking up. He wasn’t scared or sad or lonely. And Georgie wasn’t, either. They were swarmed with contentment, joy. Exactly how you’d expect it to be.

Richie didn’t ever think that babysitting was his ideal heaven, but at the moment, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he would’ve been happier.

His face slammed against something hard (maybe he’d forgotten to move out of Georgie’s way, oops), pushing his glasses hard into his skin. Richie whipped his head back in confusion, opening his eyes. “What? I thought I took these things… off…”

He was looking at himself in the mirror, the rest of his dressing room on full display behind him. Richie wasn’t sure how to react. On the one hand—not dead! He also still had both of his arms, which was cool. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure how to process what had just happened. His heart was sinking, creating a dizzying pit in his stomach that did _not_ mix well with his hangover. He didn’t even realize his phone was ringing like crazy as he pulled his glasses off, letting out a deep sigh when the world around him blurred and contorted. Whatever that afterlife was, it wasn’t ready for him yet. But it would be there, when his time was finally up. He longed for it already. The feeling of being alone with his thoughts, and with his friends, knowing exactly what the future had in store. Not having to worry about feelings. Just pushing a swing, and feeling the rush of air as Georgie swinged past him.

When Richie actually did check his phone, he came to a jarring amount of messages from a group chat that seemed to include himself, Stan and Ben. But he was also missing about twenty calls all coming from a number he hadn’t seen each time. Richie clicked on it, knowing for sure it wasn’t Mike or Stan or Ben, tapping his fingers against the boudoir impatiently as it rang. When the call clicked on, Richie held his breath.

““Hey, I’m in the car—um, shit—I can’t look up right now, who’s this?”

His heart soared. “You called, Eds?”

A loud honking noise sounded from the other end and Richie jumped, groaning as his headache pulled him back down to earth. “Richie! Holy shit—I—the loop thing, I—I remember everything!”

“HOLY SHIT!” Richie shouted, his mouth cracking into a grin. “Oh my god, for real?! That’s fucking amazing!”

“Yeah, right?! I told Mike to give me your number, but like—I woke up in traffic, which is a _bad_ time to wake up, and—shit!” Richie heard Eddie laugh from the other end of the phone, and his smile only widened. “That… oh, shit. You’re alive. This means we have to go back.”

That’s one way to kill the mood. Richie’s smile faltered. He wanted to reassure Eddie so badly. He _knew_ what it felt like to see each other die. He didn’t have time to say anything on the subject before Lori came knocking on his door. “Shit, Lor—I’m on the phone!”

“Is this a bad time? I can call you back.”

“You’re on in two minutes, Mr. Tozier! Is everything alright?!” She sounded genuinely concerned, like she usually did. Her boss sighed and leaned back into the phone.

“Uh—fuck, yeah Eds, sorry. We’ll talk about it later, meet us at the airport outside town,” Richie said quickly before hanging up on him. He dashed over to the door (which he realized soon after was a terrible idea since his brain felt like jello) and swung it open. “Hi, Lori. Call me Richie from now on or you’re fired.” He held up his phone, which was still pinging like crazy every minute. “If you get a call from Maine, please answer it for me and tell Mike Hanlon I don’t have time for his bullshit, and I’ll be there after I do this fuckin’ show.”

She took his phone and raised an eyebrow, looking up at him in a way that let Richie know she knew something was seriously up. “M—Richie… you look awful. Is everything going to be okay out there?”

He sighed, and in the moment, the thought of Georgie trying to reach the sky flashed through his mind. A smile played at his face as the feeling of contentment washed over him for just one more second.

“Yeah Lor. I think everything is going to be okay.”

***

Stan and Ben were beyond relieved to find out that Eddie was in the loop at last. None more so than Richie of course, but even that wasn’t the biggest matter at hand. Richie wanted to know _exactly_ what he missed while he was down under, and his friends looked unusually reluctant to give up that information. “Well… okay, so going off with Bill and Mike was useless. Bill wanted to follow a kid, Mike was on board with that, and I was _not_. But we did because they’re fucking psychopaths. And… uh, we didn’t actually find him. But we were scared that we lost you, Rich.”

Richie shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah we don’t have to bring that up. Let’s pretend that one didn’t happen, why don’t we?”

His friends looked concerned, and to Richie’s dismay, like they were definitely not going to drop it anytime soon. But Ben (who was growing on him more every day) changed the subject. “So it wasn’t kissing. That was wrong. What, then? Eddie’s here now, but nobody else. How the fuck are we doing this? I’m… I wonder if it’s random? But then why after so many resets… maybe whatever’s doing this is just getting weaker. What if every time we kill Pennywise, things start to slip through the cracks? And killing it for good will break the loop.”

Eddie shrugged. “That’s viable, I guess. Then what the fuck are we sitting around here talking about it for? Let’s go fucking kill that thing. I say we skip all the shit at the beginning and just go fucking kill IT right away.”

“I didn’t actually think of that,” Richie admitted. “Fuck it. We should convince everyone to go kill IT right away. That would, like, make everything go quicker. Right?”

Stanley frowned at them. “No. I know this seriously fucking sucks, but they still have to get used to what’s going on before we throw them into this. Don’t you all remember how hard it was to get here? The pull. It’s meant to make us miserable, to drive us crazy. As soon as everyone gets here, they’ll need a break. They deserve it.” The others knew he was right, and all acknowledged their agreement. He relaxed. “It seems like we don’t really have control over how the loop is broken.”

So they were back at square one as far as finding out how to break the loop. Fantastic. Richie and Eddie had driven themselves to the airport while Stan and Ben flew in, so Stanley drove in Richie’s car and Ben in Eddie’s to get back to Derry. The ride was nice and silent while they were driving out of the airport, since Stanley decided to text his wife and let her know he’d had a safe flight. When he was done, however, he turned his body towards the driver, making it clear they needed to talk. “What happened after you died?”

He whistled. “Way to make small talk.”

“I’m not kidding, Richie. When… when I died, I was back in the temple. In Derry. Both my parents were there.” Stan scratched his wrist nervously. Richie subconsciously placed a hand over Stan’s, and he stopped. They laced their fingers, and Stan had a small smile on his face as he continued. “I hadn’t seen them in a long time. I remembered being mad at them when I left, but after seeing them again, I felt so content. It made me want to go back. I didn’t want to give up that feeling… Richie, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Being dragged out of that feeling and thrown back into this mess, I-I just know it can be a lot.”

Richie tightened his grip on Stan’s hand in a way he hoped was reassuring. “God, man. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And spoil the surprise? No way.” There was a pause, and Stan sighed. “Come on Richie. You don’t… just, tell me if you don’t wanna share what happened. It’s okay.”

“No,” Richie replied quickly. “I do. It was the same feeling you described. Being just, super duper chill. Like I knew everything was gonna be okay forever. Do you remember when you and Bill played tee ball, and I always came to your games?”

“Yeah. You never watched though,” Stan teased. “You always just…” His eyes widened as it clicked. He looked up at Richie, who was purposefully avoiding his gaze. “You saw Georgie. Didn’t you?”

A moment of silence made the tension in the car obvious as Richie tried to think of how to respond to that—how Stan would _react_ to that. Georgie was important to the four of them, and he knew how much weight his words would hold. “I did. It was one of those days, and he wanted me to push him on the swings. He didn’t want to talk about the real world, or what happened. He just wanted to play. It was like he was waiting a really long time to see me, and me being there was all that mattered. And… it was perfect. I just—I felt like everything was perfect. I always thought I lived in my dream world already. But I guess I peaked at twelve.”

That conclusion earned a laugh out of Stan, which made Richie smile with pride. “That sounds beautiful, Richie. I’m surprised it was something so genuine. I always thought you’d be the kinda guy with one of those wild party life ideas. Y’know, sex, drugs, loud music, bad dancing. Forever.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So you thought about what our afterlives looked like? Well shit, now I’m curious. What about the others?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked.”

Turns out, he had thought about it a _lot_. Stan wasn’t even fully done talking as they pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant, both of them laughing and grinning the way to the door. Ben and Eddie joined them quickly, asking what the laughter was about only to be dismissed. Mike and Bill were delighted to see them all arrive together, and when Beverly showed up, the table was full, to everyone else’s surprise and delight. That was when Richie realized that Bill, Mike and Beverly were the only ones out of the loop. That maybe this whole nightmare was almost over, after all.

And as he prepared to explain the time loop again, he couldn’t help but smile. They were almost free. They really could beat this thing. Everyone looked up at Beverly when they heard the snap of a fortune cookie, and she had a perplexed look on her face as she read the paper out loud. Richie practically held his breath, and he could sense most of t he others doing the same.

“It just says piece. Like p-i-e-c-e. That’s a weird fortune, right? Does that mean something?”

As per usual, everyone else took it upon themselves to open the rest of the cookies to form the new phrase, and the loop group was starting to realize that they would never enjoy MadLibs the same way again. As the Losers put the words in the sequence that seemed to make the most sense, they noticed the phrase wasn’t something that anyone could decipher. It seemed cut and dry, but it meant nothing to them.

“ _THERE’S A PIECE OF IT IN ALL OF YOU_.”

Beverly looked sick. “What? What does that mean? Why is it in third person?”

Something dawned on Stanley. “What if IT isn’t the one who wrote the fortunes,” he suggested. “I mean, some of them were obviously written by Pennywise. The first time, it said I didn’t make it.

_‘LOOKS LIKE STANLEY COULD NOT CUT IT._ ’

“The second time it changed, Richie said it was about him.

_‘YOU CAN’T KEEP HIM SAFE FOREVER RICHIE._ ’

“The grammar was different, like it was being written by a different person. It wasn’t meant to freak him out like the first one though, it was a warning. The next one was about Ben.

_‘LOOKS LIKE BEN IS IN THE LOOP._ ’

“Grammar-wise, it’s the same writing style as the first one. It was written by IT trying to scare us again. Telling us it knew what was happening. Letting us know we didn’t have the upper hand. And this one… ‘there’s a piece of it in all of you.’ It’s the same style as the second note.” He concluded.

Eddie looked sick. “Oh, what the fuck…”

To everyone’s surprise, it was Mike who spoke up next. “So whatever is trapping us all in the loop is different from IT. They’re two separate entities… Stan, it sounds like you think that whoever sent us this message,” he gestures to the fortunes. “Is on our side. Or at least, not on IT’s side.”

“So maybe the loop isn’t meant to torture you. Maybe you aren’t supposed to break it,” Beverly reasoned. “Maybe we’re supposed to… team up with this other entity. Use it to win. But, you said we won in every loop. You said we killed it each time.” Her statement left everyone unsettled. The whole time, Richie had believed that they killed it no matter what. He made his top priority breaking the loop so that they could kill Pennywise and all his friends could live. But if they hadn’t really killed IT… that was why his perfect ending wasn’t the end. They never really killed IT at all. _They were doing everything wrong, and it was Richie’s fault_.

His head was spinning with this theory, and he felt like he might hurl too. “We need to get out of this restaurant. Now.”

Nobody objected. They once again gathered outside, and like last time, Richie sat down on the curb, once again tuning out everything while his friends played around with Stan’s theory. Richie noticed the kid again, and again, the kid looked at him. Stan tapped Richie’s shoulder when he noticed what he was staring at. He glanced over at his friend, surprised to see alarm written all over the man’s typically stoic face. “That’s the boy Bill wanted to follow,” he said in a low voice. “Richie, _that’s_ the fucking kid. We couldn’t find him.” Great. He nodded, and Stan ripped his stare away from the child and back to his friend. They locked eyes. “I don’t know why Bill wanted to follow him, but what if it’s important? Does that mean… should we actually be following him, or should we stay away?”

The sound of car doors shutting let Stan and Richie know that the family was driving away. The comedian shook his head, and with a deep sigh, said what he’d been trying to avoid thinking. “We don’t have a lot of time left before the other three break out of the loop. If everyone being out is what makes Pennywise able to finally kill us… then we’re in deep shit, Stan. We need to figure out everything before it’s too late.”

Stan and Richie knew that only good things waited for them. But even so, the thought of losing, of all their friends being slaughtered… they both silently vowed never to let it come to fruition. They would win.

They had to.

***

With the bomb dropped on Richie that he might’ve been misleading his friends the entire time and leading them to their deaths, he couldn’t exactly sleep. And, to his fortune, neither could Eddie. The men decided to go for a lovely 2am stroll, which was occupied mostly by the dead silence of plaguing existential dread. Richie decided to smoke while they walked, which only added to the tension. In other words—the  _ perfect _ romantic atmosphere. Note the sarcasm.

As they passed familiar sights and Richie realized where they were, he realized, even if things were bad for the time being, Eddie in the loop meant Richie could finally put his mind at ease. For good. “Here,” he pointed in the direction of the kissing bridge. “I know I told you about the carving already but I wanna show it to you. Because for once, you’ll fucking remember it.” He had meant to come off as playful, but his exhaustion made the statement sound ruder than Richie intended. He almost immediately wished he’d been paying more attention to his tone. “Please.” Luckily for him, Eddie never took Richie’s sharp words to heart.

His companion softened. “Oh. Sure…” Ignoring the awkwardness, they did go forward. Richie led Eddie a good length down the bridge until he stopped, heart pounding in his chest, and pointed out the carving again. Eddie wasn’t sure how to react. Richie both sat in front of it and Eddie followed suit, staring at their initials, knowing that a serious conversation was going to follow. For a long time, it didn’t happen. Long enough for Richie to be finished with his cigarette, tossing it down into the gravel. Eddie nudged Richie with his elbow after he had had enough of the staring. “You got a knife?”

Richie blinked out of his trance. “Huh? What for?”

“What do you think, dipshit? The carving’s all faded. We gotta make sure this shitty town knows we were here.” He sounded determined. Richie didn’t have a knife, but he had his car keys, and Eddie had his, too. They both took the time to carefully re-carved their initials into the bridge over the old ones, a sense of pride filling their chests as the tension clouding them was replaced with relief. Amidst the universe ripping them back and forth like an unforgiving tide, they had a moment together to catch their breaths. A moment where they both felt like, finally, they had some sense of control over it all.

“I love you,” Eddie said quietly, so quietly that Richie might not have heard them had they not been so close. He looked sideways at Eddie. “I know I do for certain. I also know I probably already told you everything before in another loop that I don’t remember, but after everything that fucking happened yesterday—or tomorrow, who cares—and going back to seeing my wife again… promise you won’t fucking laugh?” He cut himself off to look up and acknowledge Richie’s nod before continuing. Richie noticed him tapping his foot rapidly on the ground, sending up tiny dust clouds. “I realized that I felt more alive spending the day with you than I did when I saw my wife again. And when you  _ died _ like that… I just knew I lost a part of myself. I wish I could just forget it, but now that I have you back again, I knew I’d have to tell you eventually how I felt. I just—I always thought something was wrong with me. You know? Shit…” He was crying. Eddie seemed to be getting angrier and more frustrated the longer he spoke. “And you had to watch me die too. And I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I put you through that.”

They had subconsciously turned to face each other. Richie nodded along while he listened, not peeling his gaze away from Eddie even for a split second. He was afraid that if he did, the tide might pull him back under again. Richie was really sick and tired of being afraid.

“Nothing’s fucking wrong with you. And you don’t have to be sorry, Eds. Don’t ever apologize for that. You  _ saved _ me, even if it was just for a second. It wasn’t your fault.” He put a hand on his friend’s cheek to wipe a few of his tears away, which was when he noticed his own glasses getting foggy.  _ ‘Jeez, when did I become such a crybaby? _ ’ “It’s never gonna happen again. We’re both making it out of this fucking nightmare together, you hear me? I’m… I keep being afraid to tell you how I feel because of what I saw, but I’m tired of it. I’m not fucking afraid anymore. I love you, Eddie, and I’m not gonna let anything happen to either of us. I’ll kill the clown with my bare fucking hands if I gotta.”

Eddie clenched his teeth and nodded. He slowly sank forward, and Richie wrapped his arms around the man’s back as he sank into his chest and cried. Eddie was an angry crier—he didn’t do it that often, but when he did, it was intense. Usually people backed away when he cried. He would break pencils, throw rocks, kick furniture, do anything to get rid of his feelings of desperation and helplessness. Even in that moment, Richie could feel him grabbing onto his shirt with so much force he thought Eddie might rip it. But he didn’t care. He was angry, too. He wanted to feel all of Eddie’s pain so he could help him bear it. So Richie cried too.

They sat on the ground like that until Eddie scraped his knee on a rock. Not wanting him to get an infection, they both rose and dusted themselves off, slowly starting to make their way back to the hotel to clean out Eddie’s scrape. The return trip was much less tense than the walk to the bridge; their hands were laced together, Eddie holding on for dear life and Richie not missing the circulation in his fingers one bit. Both of their cheeks stained with tear tracks. Swollen eyes. “What the fuck do we do when this is all over?” Eddie asked, making an airy feeling appear in the pit of Richie’s stomach. “I don’t want to pretend nothing happened. I can’t just leave Derry and forget about you again. I can’t go back to being married to my fucking mother.”

Richie shrugged, his eyes trained on the sky but all his focus on the man he was attached to. “It’s all up to you, Eds. I’m here for you no matter what. With you ‘till the end of the line and all that. For real.”

“‘Till death do us part.”

He couldn’t help but grin, feeling kinda cheesy and stupid for it. “Already citing our wedding vows? You move fast, Dr. K.”

Eddie squeezed his hand. “In your dreams, trashmouth.”

Richie couldn’t help but grin back when he realized that despite holding Eddie’s left, there wasn’t a wedding ring digging into his hand.


	9. necessary sacrifices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew um! sorry this took so long & it’s pretty incoherent. 2020 huh?

Richie woke up earlier than the others the next morning—well, it’s more appropriate to say that he didn’t really sleep at all. After getting dressed, he tiptoed quietly downstairs, only to be scared shitless by seeing another figure sitting at the bar. Upon hearing him squeal, Beverly turned around, exhaustion and amusement playing at her features as well. “Good morning to you too, Richie.” She teased him. “What, does my bed head look that bad?”

He picked himself off the ground, laughing at his own mistake. “Can’t be as bad as mine, baby. Sorry about that…”

“Don’t worry about it. Want a drink?” She held up her glass and gestured to the bar. It was still 5am, but Richie felt like he deserved it. He nodded, dragging his ass over to the seat next to Bev as she filled a glass of whiskey for him. “What has you awake at this hour? You don’t strike me as an early riser.”

“I’m not. I just… didn’t get much sleep.” It dawned on him that amongst most of his crazy nightmare of a life, he hadn’t taken much time to talk to Beverly before the final battle. All he knew was that she was a fashion designer with a bitchy husband, and that she was still just as pretty as when they were kids. “Why, is this when you normally wake up?”

She nodded. “I’d be getting ready for work right about now. Kissing my husband good morning… I’m not gonna fucking miss that.”

Richie took a sip of his whiskey, finishing most of it in one gulp. “Yeah. You should ask Ben to crash at his place, he’d be fucking delighted to have you.” He wasn’t gonna steal Ben’s thunder, but Richie also knew that something would happen between Beverly and Bill if she thought he had written her the poem. Ben and Richie had grown closer than ever after their life-saving kiss, and he was gonna repay Ben in any way he could for it. His homeboy.

“You’re not inviting me to your place? What, worried your girlfriend will be jealous?”

“That’s a bit. I’m gay.”

She choked on her drink, and Richie couldn’t help but smile as she looked over at him in shock. “You  _ are?! _ What, I had no idea! I mean—that’s great! I’m glad you told me. Sorry, I’m just surprised. You’re the last person I would’ve thought was gay. Is that offensive?”

Reaching over the counter to grab more whiskey, Richie snorted. “No. That means I did a good job hiding it! Why, who’d you think was gay?” He wasn’t at all anxious about Beverly’s reaction. She was Bev—she had accepted him for the shitty person he used to be. She could accept him being gay whether she cared or not. It seemed like she didn’t though, to Richie’s relief.

“Um… Bill or Eddie. I kept thinking Bill was into me only for him to ignore me, so I thought, ‘maybe he just doesn’t like girls?’ And Eddie… you know. He always seemed like it. Never interested in girls, dressed kinda queer, was afraid he’d get AIDS. He seemed like he knew it but didn’t want to admit it. Shit, I feel bad for saying that. That would be mean if he really is.” She mumbled, taking another sip of her own drink.

Richie couldn’t stop himself from bursting out laughing. Her face heated up, but she wasn’t done swallowing so he beat her to talking before she could defend herself. “First of all, you don’t call the way people dress queer. But  _ Bill?! _ Bill is the straightest guy I’ve ever met! He always had the hots for you when we were kids, he just knew you were too good for him!” Was that phrase in Ben’s favor? Probably not. But Richie would make sure to put in a good word for him before Bev went running off into Bill’s arms. “I mean—for God’s sake, he’s the one who wanted you in the club so bad. He and Ben—they both  _ had _ it for you.”

The whole conversation had her flabbergasted. “What?! No way! I mean, I always thought Bill wrote me that poem, but he never seemed that into me! I’m not too good for him, we were all losers!”

“Bev, you’re too good for  _ anyone _ ,” Richie clarified. “But you deserve to be with the man who loved you enough to write you that shitty poetry and save your life from an alien clown when we were kids. You know Ben wrote that, right?”

Her jaw dropped, and her face got redder. “Stop!  _ Ben?! _ If you’re lying, trashmouth, I  _ swear— _ ”

“I’m not! For real! It was him, the uh, January embers, blah blah. You figured it out at the end of one of the loops. I didn’t even know it was a  _ thing _ , but you two had a whole moment where you freaked out over the sappy poem. It was kinda queer if you ask me.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“What’s all this about?” Ben let out a loud yawn as he walked into the bar area, unable to hold in a smile at the sight of Bev and Richie laughing. “You know you guys are being super loud, right?” Beverly looked up at him. Richie watched in amusement, sipping his whiskey, as Ben paled under her gaze. “Richie,  _ what _ did you do?”

“January embers,” She said loud and clear, not so much testing the waters as jumping right in. “Your hair is winter fire.”

Ben’s face turned as red as January embers, whatever the fuck that was. “My heart burns there too. I thought… you thought Bill wrote that poem.”

She stood up and walked over to him. “A little birdie told me that I’m too good for Bill.”

Even though his face was turned away from them, Richie could tell they were about to kiss. And he wasn’t wrong. He took another victorious swig of whiskey and smiled to himself. World’s best wingman.

***

The Losers found themselves outside of Neibolt again, most of them already sick of seeing the house just based on the sheer number of times they’ve had to walk through it’s door. Earlier they had tried and failed to follow the kid from the restaurant, only to lose him amongst the crowd at the fair. After searching for a few hours to no avail and then circling back around to kill Henry Bowers, there was nothing left for them to do but face the final boss. They couldn’t ignore the pull that was dragging them down, and the guilty relief they felt from it the closer they got. How the closer they got to the alien, the better they felt. That was how it would get them. No matter what. That  _ pull _ . Richie wondered if that was what the so-called second entity meant. Maybe there was a piece of IT in all of them that it wanted to get back. Maybe that was how it pulled them in.

“Richie,” Stan rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay. When it’s all over, we never have to come back here again. I promise. Only a few more times before it’s over.” Richie leaned into his friend’s touch as they walked further into the disgusting hellscape. “We got through this before and we will again.”

“I know. Sorry. It just… doesn’t get easier. Ever. Especially fucking now.”

When Stan nodded, his curls still bounced. And it was still  _ so _ Stan, even though his hair wasn’t as golden as it used to be. “Honestly, I’d be worried if it did get easier. The day we get used to going into alien lairs, we know something’s wrong with us.”

Something  _ was _ wrong. Despite the reassurance, Richie could feel it. IT was just out of sight waiting for them to step into the room like always. But something  _ else _ was there. That feeling of being watched only amplified the further into the room they strode, until Pennywise appeared like always and everyone jumped at the opportunity to make IT small. The insults did their job. But right before Bill reached down to grab IT’s heart, a new voice rang throughout the cave.

“What are you doing?! You’re hurting him!”

Bill’s attention was ripped away from Pennywise just for that split second, as was everyone else’s by the sound of a child’s voice. It was the little boy from earlier—the one they hadn’t been able to find. But there he was, climbing into the freaky alien nest, looking absolutely mortified by what they were doing to Pennywise. “That’s my friend! Leave him alone!”

“What are you doing?! Kid, get out of here! IT’s evil, don’t you get that?! I-I-IT fucking killed m-my little brother!” Bill spun back around in a rage, but to his and everyone’s horror, the monster was gone. “Holy s-s-shit! SHIT!”

Loud ominous laughter echoed through the cave, through their  _ skulls _ , like it was being played through the world's largest speakers in their brains. Even the child gritted his teeth as Ben—the closest to him—put an arm over his head protectively. “That’s right! I’m your best friend in the whole wide world! I’m the one who will teach you how to float! And these people want to  _ stop _ me. Just like they killed that man! But you won’t let them kill you too, will you, Frankie?”

The kid—Frankie—ducked away from Ben. He glanced between the losers, his eyes wide as saucers. “Why  _ did _ you kill that man, Richie?!”

_ ‘Why the fuck did the kid have to know  _ me,’ Richie thought as a chill ran down his spine at just how creepy Frankie could be unintentionally. Although, he had a point. Richie felt bad that the child had bore witness to the grotesque murder of Henry Bowers, and it certainly didn’t help their case. But…  _ how? _ “IT doesn’t want to help you do anything. It’s  _ lying _ . It lied to us, too. Please don’t let it hurt you, kid. Just stay with us, okay?”

He frowned. “You’re not very funny in real life.”

It didn’t matter, Richie didn’t care, he just wanted this fucking kid to get somewhere safe. “This isn’t a joke! This is a dangerous situation, and you shouldn’t be here!”

“You tried to follow me to the fair!” He accused them. “You were gonna kill me, too!”

Oops. So much for following Bill being a good idea. It seemed that the kid had noticed them and flipped the script. “No we weren’t! Bill wanted to warn you so the same thing didn’t happen to you that happened to Georgie!”

The kid furrowed his eyebrows. “No,  _ you _ tried to kill Georgie!”

Before anyone had time to process that, the looming question answered itself. “Stop trying to hurt me!” Georgie’s voice replaced IT’s, his loud whining coming from everywhere at once. To everyone’s horror, the ghostly form of Bill’s kid brother stepped out right behind Frankie, who shielded it protectively. “Frankie is my best friend! You guys are killers! You wanted to kill me, Billy!”

“Th-th-that’s not Georgie! It’s the f-fucking clown!” Bill ignored the fake kid, talking instead to Frankie. “I’ve been trying to tell you, IT’s evil! Frankie you have to believe us! You’re going to die!”

“No way, Frankie, we’re gonna float! Remember?”

The kid looked back and forth between Bill and Pennywise like he was finally starting to question who to believe. And then, his gaze settled on Richie. Slowly Richie felt everyone else’s eyes on him, too. His heart sank like it was being weighed down by the dread he felt. “My parents told me not to listen to strangers,” Frankie said meekly. “But you’re not a stranger. What do I do, Richie?” The kid took a few steps toward him. Just as Pennywise was out of Frankie’s sight, fake Georgie’s mouth twisted open at a gory angle. They all knew what was happening. Richie reached out his arms for Frankie, yelling for the kid to run and not hearing his own words through the sound of his heartbeat in his ears as the jaws opened wider, wider, wider.

Frankie broke out into a run.

_ SNAP _ .

Frankie ran into Richie’s outstretched arms, and the man put an arm around the boy’s head to prevent him from looking up at the scene. Two halves of Bill’s body fell to the cave floor as the alien twisted back into it’s favorite form, still wearing an absolutely delighted smile. Beverly let out an ear-piercing scream, and Richie saw Eddie stumble dizzily out of the corner of his eye before the sound of him gagging made Richie rip his gaze away. “Richie, what happened?!” Frankie cried from under his arms. What happened was something that the others feared might from the very first time that Bill dragged them into the sewers looking for his brother.

Bill died for Georgie.

There was no time to mourn as the alien grew larger, without the threat of the Losers’ insults to shrink it down. “Aww, look what you did to Billy! You let him die!” The voice screamed in everyone’s ears. Richie couldn’t hear Frankie screaming, but the vibrations on his chest assured him that he was. “Looks like you can’t save them all! No matter how many times you try!”

_ ‘You can’t keep him safe forever, Richie.’ _

IT wasn’t talking to him, it was mocking them all. But the phrase on the fortune rang louder in his head than anything the clown was putting there, and he’d had enough.

“AT LEAST I’M NOT A BABY LIKE YOU! YOU’RE A SMALL FUCKING BABY! YOU’RE SO SMALL I COULD CRUSH YOU MYSELF!” And his friends got the memo to join in. Richie believed every word with his whole heart. IT was small. Pathetic. The horror that had lurked in the background for their entire lives was nothing more than a pathetic little creature that he could rip apart himself. And once it was small enough, he pushed Frankie out of the way and bent down. “And you’re not gonna fucking win.”

“DON’T KILL HIM!”

Richie wasn’t Bill. He didn’t hesitate to rip Pennywise’s heart out of it’s tiny chest and crush it under his fingers. He reveled in the feeling of IT’s heart slowing to a stop where he could feel it die just as Eddie and Bill had. And, for Eddie and Bill, Richie got his revenge.

He turned around and processed the state of his friends. Eddie was hurling while Stan patted his back. Beverly was crying, her head in her hands. Ben was on his knees hugging Frankie. And Mike was waiting for Richie’s gaze, staring right at him. If looks could kill, Richie would’ve died again. The man made his way over to Richie, which he had to step over half of Bill in order to do. The sight of it made Richie’s eyes swell with tears as he tried and failed to keep his focus on Mike’s eyes. His friend, he could tell, was full of nothing but sympathy for Richie. He opened his arms. Despite the anger Richie held for Mike for lying to them, he couldn’t help but fall right into Mike’s arms. They were still friends, after all. And hell, apparently Richie had been misleading everyone the whole time, too. If anything he should be on his knees begging Mike for forgiveness.

“I know this whole thing has been hard for you. It’s not your fault, Richie.”

He was grateful.

The Losers got out of the pit as it collapsed, and for the first time in a while, it made them feel more hopeless than victorious. They were mourning the loss of their leader. Bill was the one that had brought them all together, who had  _ kept _ them together, and he was an important figure in all his friends’ lives. And he’d just died for a kid they never met, and had no idea what to do with. Did he mean something to the entity that was helping them? Did he have a piece of IT, too? There wasn’t anything they could do but walk him home on their way to the quarry.

As they jumped again, Richie couldn’t help but wish it was all over. For good. He’d been wishing that since the beginning of course, but it had been more desperation than grief. Would he have to witness the deaths of more of his friends? Stan, Eddie, Bill,  _ himself _ . What if more of his friends died before the loops were up? What if some of them died for good? And then he hit the water, and his thoughts could all be summed up by one word:  _ ‘Ow _ .’ He kicked you the surface to be met with the faces of his friends. They were smiling, but unlike any other time, their hearts weren’t in it. They were free, but the figure that held them all together was dead. Stan felt it the most—Stan had been Bill’s best friend. And Richie could see it written all over the man’s face. He looked like Richie did the first time, when the feeling of losing Eddie was washing over him for real. The split second where he realized he was in love with the man he held in his arms as the light left his eyes.

But Stan was the first to laugh. Don’t get it wrong—he was crying, too. But the laughter was much more obvious given how soaking wet he was. Everyone watched him struggle to calm down, and it was apparent from the looks on some of their faces that they thought he’d gone crazy. But when his head was level again, he was smiling sadly, talking through what could’ve been laughs or sobs. “Bill—he would’ve—we always told him he was gonna die for a fucking kid. We just had the wrong one! Leave it to him to change the loop so dramatically that he’s gotta fucking die to save a kid.”

Richie smiled. “I love him, but… it feels kinda self fulfilling.”

He joined in the laughter. For a moment he thought he might be making the others uncomfortable—maybe they were just jaded from the time loop—but the others joined in.

It was good. Bill would’ve wanted them happy—mourning around and being sappy was  _ his _ job, after all. He kept his heart set on the distance while his friends strayed and hesitated, but in the end, he was as headstrong as he was stubborn. And even though he wasn’t still there to keep them all together, his presence never fully left them. Richie knows this was the worst ending for the group. That after leaving Derry, all of them would separate and grow apart again, leaving holes inside them empty where IT had planted a part of itself, replacing their core memories and erasing their friendships. They’d go back to whatever mediocrity awaited them.

So that one moment where they got to get everything out, where they could be a happy family just one last time, would be the most important for them if it was truly the end.

And yet thankfully, it wasn’t.

***

Over the past repeated days, Richie had never felt so relieved to have someone else in the loop. As soon as he heard Bill’s voice on the other end of the line, he felt so happy he could punch a wall. It was the biggest win yet—having  _ Bill _ on his side. Knowing so much that Bill didn’t but with absolute certainty that he would be believed. And, best of all, knowing that Bill wasn’t dead for good.

“I never fuckin’ thought that would happen. I’m so sorry, Rich. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to leave you all behind.”

“Don’t sweat it. We had a blast without you.” There was a pause. “I’m kidding! We all had a good cry-laugh session. It was the first time nobody kissed after that fight, so you’ll be happy to know that everyone kept it in their pants in your honor.”

“Oh yeah, I’m delighted.”

After guiltily dismissing Lorraine for what felt like the billionth time, Richie returned to the call, not even bothering to try sobering up before he’d have to go on stage. “So… that means Bev and Mike are the only ones left. Jesus, we gotta figure this shit out fast, huh? If we’re all outta the loop…”

“Then we don’t get any more redos,” Bill finished solemnly. “I mean, that’s the hope. We also might just be stuck repeating these few days forever. Oh god.”

Richie pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dammit Bill, I’m too hungover for your pessimism! Look, just, ah… you all get ready to go kick ass, alright? I still have a show to put on.”

“You do a show every time it restarts? Richie… why don’t you just skip it? It’s not like it matters, in the loop anyway.”

“Hah! You’d think. I need a minute to sober up, anyway. Besides, each time I get new trauma, it makes me funnier.”

“...I know some really great therapists—”

“Oh, would you look at the time? I’m on, Billy. Can’t wait to see you again in Derry.” Bill laughed on the other end of the line, which Richie interrupted by hanging up. His show went the same as always, and he met up with the others in Maine again only hours later for another brainstorming session in the tiny Auntie Anne’s in the airport. His friends looked as exhausted as ever, most of them glancing at Bill warily, him being the most recent death among the losers. It was still fresh in their minds. The gore, the  _ sound _ , the aftermath… even though they expected him to be back the next day, completely fine, they couldn’t forget it.

Ben sighed. “Well, there’s another common theme here. I don’t think you guys are gonna like it, though. It’s a hell of a lot trickier to manipulate than kissing. And… I mean, it’s just a theory, not—”

“Spit it out, Ben.” Stan tapped his fingers on the table, a clear sign that he was anxious, and rapidly losing patience.

“R-right, um… so, the loop  _ started _ with Stan and Richie. Stan, who sacrificed himself because he thought it would save us. And then… I joined. After I went to kiss Richie, even though I could’ve died. Then Eddie, who jumped in front of IT to protect Richie. And last but not least Bill, who put himself between IT and Frankie. So, what I’m saying, I guess… the common denominator is sacrifice.”

Richie froze as everyone else at the table seemed to consider the possibility.

Most annoyed at this theory was, of course, Eddie. “You’re fucking kidding. Sacrifice?! We did that already! What was the point of the fucking tokens if that wasn’t a  _ good enough _ sacrifice?”

“I think you might’ve answered your own question,” Bill groaned. “The tokens weren’t good enough. T-to get the pieces of IT out of us, we gotta s-sacrifice ourselves. And I g-guess it’s hard to do that unless we have unlimited chances.”

None of their previous theories had been completed right (except that they were in a time loop, obviously) so Richie took this one with a grain of salt. After all, that’s just what it was—a theory. An attempt at fitting together pieces from completely different puzzles and trying to make a coherent picture. “Sure. I mean, but, what was my sacrifice then?” Richie spoke up, drawing the attention to him for a brief moment before everyone drew back to Ben, awaiting an explanation. He didn’t seem to have one, and the comedian felt bad for putting him on the spot. “I mean, Stan’s was obvious, right? So he was probably in the loop before me. He started it. Then, what was my fuckin’ sacrifice? I… I didn’t really do anything.”

“...You killed B-Bowers,” Bill pointed out.

“You were the first one to attack Pennywise. And… you figured out how to beat him.” Ben remembered.

Richie’s heart sank. When he’d come back at the clown, yelling about truth or dare, throwing insults… had that been a sacrifice? He didn’t see it that way. He was venting. All the anger and repression that had been building for years finally reaching their limit and boiling over. It was starting to get annoying, testing all these theories, getting his friends kills because he was scared to wake up in his dressing room again.

He didn’t feel like he’d sacrificed anything of his own at all. If anything, Richie was the one who sacrificed everybody else.

***

Regardless of guilt, it was time to test their latest theory, and possibly also Richie’s least favorite. The group allowed Mike to inform them all of the tokens instead of letting he and Bev in on the loop, for once. And so, everybody went on their separate ways, except for four. The losers that were in the loop decided that one person should go with Bev and one with Mike, to see what they experienced in the search for their tokens. Not that they had much else to do in order to kill time. So, Stan grabbed a shower cap from the clubhouse and Richie grabbed a comic book, both claiming to know for sure they were their tokens, and then followed Bev and Mike respectively in pursuits of their own.

Richie wasn’t thrilled about tagging along with Mike. But, he had to admit, it was peaceful. The man took him for a walk along the edge of the river where they first met all those years ago, kicking aside rocks, looking for the first one that was thrown during their bloody rock fight.

“Which one do you think it is?” Mike asked him suddenly, breaking the tense silence. “Which rock was the first one thrown?”

His companion, low on patience, “I think it’s in your pocket. Because there’s no way you’ll find the fucking rock thirty years later.”

The other man laughed. “Damn, you’re pretty sharp I guess. Not even gonna let me have my fun, huh?”

“Not while you’re marching us to our deaths.”

Mike stopped in his tracks, and Richie did too. “What-”

“Because you know that last time this ritual was performed, everybody died. And you think that we can placebo this into working this time. But you’re wrong, because it never works. You got it just a little bit wrong.”

Obviously Mike was taken aback. “Wh… how did you… what do you mean, a little bit wrong? Richie, do you know how to perfect the ritual?!”

He sighed. “Would you stop talking like a self-righteous cultist? I don’t know, okay? All I have is a theory. Nothing is for sure yet. I’m… working on it.”

“Well? Come on, trash mouth, what’s your theory?” He came off a bit condescending, which gave Richie the urge to shove him into the river.

“My theory is that you knew we had to make sacrifices, and you tried to tone it down. That we have to sacrifice ourselves to seal away the fucking alien, and you tried to change the narrative so we could all live.”

When the blood drained from Mike’s face, Ben’s theory was confirmed along with Richie’s fear. “...If you know that… then that means…”

“I was right?! Dammit, Mike! Of course you fucking knew that already!” Richie cussed. “You already knew how to kill it, and you led us on a wild fucking goose chase, and now we’re all stuck here! And it’s not your fault, you just wanted us all to live, but I’m so—I’m so pissed!” Well, at least he was getting better at expressing his emotions. Kinda.

“Richie… I’m sorry. I’m not completely sure what you’re talking about, but…” He stops, eyes narrowing. “...Wait. Is that  _ Henry Bowers? _ ”

“FANCY SEEING YOU BOYS HERE!”


End file.
